$B  ma 


GIFT  OF 
John  M.   Garvan 


GRAMMAR  OF  LOGIC 


INTELLECTUAL   PHILOSOPHY 


DIDACTIC  PRINCIPLES; 


FOR  THE  USE  OF  SCHOOLS  AND  PRIVATE  INSTRUCT'OV 


ALEXANDER  JAMIESON, 

c.fa  Treatise  on  the  Construction  of  Slaps,  a  Grammar  of  Rhtlt>r\< 
JMerature,  Conversations   on  General  Hittory,  Editor  of  the  Jifth  and 
improved  Edition  of  Adams's  Elements  of  uteful  Knowledge,  ^-c.  ffc 


Understanding  is  a  well-spring-  oflife  to  him  that  hath  it. 

Prov.  xvi.  22, 


FIRST  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  LAST  LdNDOtf  EDITION- 


NEW-HAVEN 

PUBLISHED  BY  A,  H.  MALTBY  AND  CO, 

1822, 


GIFT  OF 

t.  G>3^Rv 


vIMAR,  LOGIC,  and  RHETORIC  are  the  handmaids 

IATURE,  SCIENCE  and  PHILOSOPHY.     The  study  of 

inar  is  the  study  of  LANGUAGE,  arid  MEMORY  is  the  lac- 

which  it  chiefly  employs  and  exercises.     But  in  pro- 

towards  the  cultivation  of  TASTE  and  GENIUS,  the 

on  of  SCIENCE,  and  other  ulterior  objects  of  educa- 

the  faculties  most  susceptible  of  improvement  and  re- 

t  are  t:  ;  IMAGINATION  and  the  UNDERSTANDING. 
POLITE  LITERATURE  is  addressed  to  the  IMAGINATION 
in*  UNDERSTANDING  in  conjunction ;  SCIENCE  is  addres- 

;:ie  UNDERSTANDING  alone. 

With  the  view,  therefore,  of  conducting  youth  from  the 

mere  exercise  of  memory,  in  the  study  of  language,  towards 

itions  on  the  powers  of  the  understanding,  in  the 

ins  of  science,  my  GRAMMAR  of  RHETORIC  and  POLITE 

Lri  KivATURE  professes,  by  a  proper  gradation,  to  occupy  the. 

1  t  )r  some  time,  in  those  agreeable  prospects  exhibited 

to  the   imagination,  and  in  those  interesting  speculations, 

also,  addressed  to  the  understanding,  with  which  the  arts  of 

speaking  and  writing  so  amply  abound. 

But  the  most  successful  initiation  and  discipline  into  the 

researches  of  philosophy,  are  disquisitions  about  the  objects 

with  which  we  are  familiar,  and  inquiries  into  the  operations 

of  the  human  mind,  which  we  every  day  experience.     And 

has  been  justly  styled  the  history  of  the  human  mind. 


IV  INTRODUCTION 

inasmuch  as  it  traces  the  progress  of  our  knowledge,  from 
our  first  and  simple  perceptions,  through  all  their  different 
combinations,  and  all  those  numerous  deductions,  that  re- 
sult from  variously  comparing  them  one  with  another.  For 
it  is  thus,  only,  that  we  are  let  into  the  frame  and  contexture, 
of  our  own  minds, — that  we  learn  in  what  manner  we  ought 
to  conduct  our  thoughts,  in  order  to  arrive  at  truth,  and 
avoid  error, — that  we  see  how  to  build  one  discovery  upon 
another,  and  by  preserving  the  chain  of  reasoning  uniform 
<ind  unbroken,  to  pursue  the  relations  of  things  through  all 
their  labyrinths  and  windings,  and  at  length  exhibit  them  to 
the  view  of  the  soul  with  all  the  advantages  of  light  and  con- 
viction. 

I,  therefore,  trust  that  this  GRAMMAR  OF  LOGIC  AND  IN- 
TELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY,  will  be  found  adequate  to  initiate 
youth  in  that  history,  and  to  resolve  such  inquiries  respect- 
ing the  operations  ef  their  own  minds,  as  they  daily  expe- 
rience. 

The  plan  of  the  volume  is  briefly  as  follows  : — 

The  FIRST  BOOK  Is  devoted  exclusively  to  the  Definition 
of  terms — Preliminary  explanations — Enumeration  of  prin- 
ciples which  are  taken  for  granted — Inquiries  into  the  nature 
and  value  ef  hypotheses — The  doctrine  of  analogy — The 
proper  means  of  knowing  the  operations  of  our  own  minds — 
The  difficulty  of  attending  to  these  operations,  with  observa- 
tions which  may  assist  us  in  overcoming  this  difficulty, — 
and,  finally,  A  comprehensive  division  of  the  powers  of  the 
human  mind. 

The  SECOND  BOOK  embraces  Elements  of  Intellectual 
Philosophy^  calculated  to  instruct  youth  in  a  knowledge  of 
those  principles  to  which^the'developmentof  the  mental  facul- 
ties may  be  traced,  and  upon  which  we  rest  all  our  knowledge 
of  legitimate  logic.  These  elements  comprise  analyses  of  the 
faculties.  Consciousness — Sensation — Perception— A tteu- 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

MP» — Conception — Abstraction — Association — Memory- 
Imagination — Judgment — Reason — Moral  Perception. 

The  THIRD  BOOK  treats  on  Subjects  of  collateral  Inquiry 
uilh  the  Intellectual  Powers, — such,  for  example,  as,  the 
Primary  and  Secondary  qualities  of  bodies — Natural  Ian 
guage  and  signs — Matter  find  Space — Duration,  Extension, 
and  Number — Identity — The  train  of  thought  in  the  Mind 
— and  Prejudices. 

The  FOURTH  BOOK — The  Grammar  of  Logic — unfolds 
the  doctrines  of  Ideas — Propositions — Sophisms — Reason- 
ing and  Syllogism.  , 

The  FIFTH  BOOK  concludes  the  volume,  with  a  brief 
sketch  of  The  Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge,  as  it  is  ad- 
dressed to  the  MEMORY,  the  UNDERSTANDING,  and  the  IM- 
AGINATION. 

The  foregoing  arrangement  was  dictated  by  motives  which 
the  following  observations  pretend  to  explain. 

In  a  work  that  treats  of  Logic  and  Intellectual  Philoso- 
phy, and  where  selection  is  so  imperiously  required,  there 
must  be  an  equal  necessity  that  certain  fixed  and  intelligible 
principles  should  be  pre-established.  Nor,  in  handling  sub- 
jects that  have  been  controverted,  and  which,  from  their 
very  nature,  are  ever  liable  to  discussion,  is  there  any  thing 
of  more  consequence  than  agreement,  at  the  out-set,  about 
the  language  we  use ;  for,  when  in  philosophical  disquisi- 
tions, we  are  once  agreed  respecting  the  signification  of  the 
words  and  terms  we  employ,  it  is  unlikely  that  we  shall  differ 
about  their  application,  provided  we  continue  to  use  them 
iiT^the  sense  which  we  had  already  affixed  to  them:  hence 
the  position  and  division  of  Book  First. 

A  knowledge  of  the  powers  of  the  human  mind,  arid  of  the 
science  of  Intellectual  Philosophy,  furnishes  the  proper  basis 
upon  which  every  other  science  is  grounded,  because  the 
human  faculties  are  the  instruments  by  which  alone  invention 

in  all  the  sciences  can  be  accomplished, 
l* 


VI  INTRODUCTION, 

The  examination  and  analysis  of  these  faculties  recipro 
ly  open  sources  of  intellectual  improvement,  and  exei 
the  student  in  habits  of  thinking,  judging,  reasoning,  and 
communication,  upon  which  depend,  not  merely  the  study 
of  logic,  and  the  further  prosecution  of  science,  but  al 
entirely  the  active  business  of  life.    Nor  does  it  appear  tt 
me  that  any  other  process  could,  with  equal  certainty  ol 
cess,  be  adopted,  by  which  the  mind  of  youth,  launching  into 
a  new  and  pleasing  field  of  speculation,  might  be  enabl- 
form  an  estimate  of  its  own  powers,  of  the  acquisitions  it  ha* 
made,  of  the  habits  it  has  formed,  and  of  the  further  improve- 
ments of  which  it  is  susceptible.     For,  when  the  student  has 
acquired  those  habits  of  attention,  and  that  capacity  of  ob- 
servation, which  the  study  of  his  intellectual  powers  must 
necessarily  give  him,  it  is  then,  and  not  till  then,  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  affirming,  that  he  is  qualified  to  enter  upon  s 
philosophical,  but  popular  course  of  LOGIC. 

Besides,  as  the  progress  of  the  intellectual  powers  i :  not 
prematurely  quickened,  an  acquaintance  with  the  pher 
na  of  the  human  mind,  arranged  so  as  to  enable  us  to 
by  our  personal  experience,  cannot  be  a  subject  of  abj 
speculation,  but  must  be  the  channel  through  which  w    ad 
vance  to  the  highest  endowments  of  the  understanding. 

But  the  professed  object  of  Logic  is  to  teach  us  the  R 
USE  OF  REASON,  both  in  the  investigation  and  in  the  commu- 
nication Of  TRUTH. 

I  have  already  pointed  out  the  relation  in  which  I  con 
RHETORIC  to  stand  to  GRAMMAR  and  LOGIC,  and,  v/il 
arrogating  pretensions  to  superior  discernment,  which  would 
only  lay  me  open  to  the  suspicion  of  a  particular  prejudice, 
I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to  conduct  ingenuous  youth 
upwards  from  the  correctness  of  their  taste  to  the  cultivation 
of  their  under standing,b\\t  by  previously  explaining  toi'^m 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  their  various  operations  with 
which,  we  are  immediately  or  remotely  conversant,  the 


INTRODUCTION,  Wl 

.stances  favourable  or  unfavourable  to  the  development 
hose  faculties,  and  the  means  by  which  their  improvement 
;  i j  be  most  successfully  undertaken. 
In  the  execution  of  this  task,  I  was  also  laid  under  an  iin- 
rious  necessity  of  banishing  from  my  work  all  the  trifling  , 
ilties  of  the  ancient  Logicians,  all  the  logomachy  of  the 
•%aouiff,   >'l  vlie  puzzling  distinctions  which  perplex  us  in 
ost  of  the  popular  treatises  of  our  modern  philosophers. — 
But  I  do  not  thence  lay  claim  to  any  new  discoveries  either 
ni  the  science  of  mind,  or  in  the  art  of  Logic. 

It  has  been  with  me  a  principle  of  paramount  importance, 
to  endeavour  to  select  the  most  unexceptionable  materials 
from  the  most  approved  works  of  my  predecessors  or  con- 
temporaries, employed,  like  myself,  in  extending  the  elements 
of  science.  And  those  subjects  which  seemed  best  adapted 
for  the  employment  of  youth  at  the  commencement  of  their 
philosophical  studies,  I  have  laboured  to  present  to  them  in 
this  BOOK  with  faithfulness  and  assiduity  in  their  selection; 
.nd  with  simplicity  and  intelligibility  in  their  form  and  a*- 
•ingement. 
Of  the  difficulty  of  executing  an  acceptable  compilation  of 

le     ELEMENTS     OF    THE    SCIENCE    OF     MIND,  with    analjSCS 

f  the  intellectual  powers,  in  the  order  of  their  connexion 
ad  dependence,  it  would  be  superfluous  to  reason  with 
E  mpyrics  who  have  not  added  one  iota  to  literature  or  to 
science.  But  the  philosopher  and  the  critic  know  that, 
judgment  in  selection,  perspicuity  of  style,  and  compression 
of  argumentation,  the  great  requisites  of  every  writer  who 
vould  not  become  dull  from  crudity  of  conception,  nor 
obscure  from  prolixity  of  reasoning,  are  indispensable  to  give 
anciently  received  truths  and  established  modern  discove- 
ries, those  charms  which  shall  fascinate  readers  in  the  pur- 
ple bloom  of  youth.  And  in  pleasing  satisfaction  will  my 
mind  now  repose,  if,  among  the  unambitious  pretensions  of  a 
r,  the  reasonings  which  support  those  truths  shall  be 


Vlii  INTRODUCTION. 

found  to  possess  conciseness,  and  the  illustrations  of  iho^ 
discoveries  no  more  expansion  of  proof  than  the  differei 
steps  of  their  relative  processes  required;  for,  with  youl 
whose  mental  faculties  we  would,  by  active  discipline,  in- 
vigorate, improve,  and  embellish,  brevity  is  not  less  the  soi 
of  reasoning  than  of  wit.     Their  knowedge,  however,  is  m 
to  rest  on  tarnished  fragments  struck  off  from  aj/io.iuursy* 
terns,  nor  on  defective  models  the  relics  of  doubtful  insti- 
tutes ;  but  on  the  details  of  human  knowledge  and  such  dis 
cipline  of  education,  as  shall  accustom  them  to  exert  thei 
intellectual  faculties,  without  preparation,  and  render  them 
prompt  in  expedient,  and  active  in  resource. 

Sufficient,  however,  has  been  said  on  Book  Second,  & 
well  to  show  its  high  importance,  as  to  satisfy  every  impar 
tial  reader,  that,  to  have  omitted  it,  or  assigned  to  it  any 
other  place  in  the  volume,  would  have  evinced  culpable 
neglect  or  capricious  arrangement. 

To  have  blended  with  the  subjects  in  the  SECOND  BOOK 
those  which  constitute  the  Third,  would  have  created  £. 
species  of  confusion,  which,  in  elementary  works,  should 
always  be  avoided  ;  and,  besides,  the  relative  importance 
this  BOOK  bears  to  the  Second  and  the  Fourth  reciprocally, 
allotted  to  it  that  neutrality  which  makes  it  of  easier  refer- 
ence to  the  numerous  subjects  that  it  may  collaterally  illus- 
trate, or  with  which,  in  many  instances,  its  materials  may 
be  directly  conjoined.  Nor  is  this  the  only  light  in  which 
Book  Third  may  be  viewed.  If  the  subjects  of  which  it  is 
composed  be  considered  abstractedly,  then  does  the  student 
enter  upon  disquisitions  and  analyses  of  separate  branches 
of  INTELLECTUAL  PHILOSOPHY,  of  primary  importance  on 
his  entrance  upon  philosophical  studies.  But  it  is  unneces- 
sary to  offer  proofs  for  that  which  is  clear  as  sun-shine. 

Of  BOOK  FOURTH,  assigned  to  PURE  LOGIC,  I  shall  say  a 
few  words.'  But  I  premise,  tkat  of  all  arts,  that  surely  is 
entitled  to  attention  which  pretends  to  tell  us  how  we  may 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

<d  properly  employ  the  UNDERSTANDING,  —  the 

fctcu  >  hich  man  is  most  eminently  distinguished  above 

the  other     eatures  of  this  world,  and  by  which,  perhaps,  he 

part  3st  of  the  constitution  of  superior  natures.     Now 

LOGIC  is  i.-iat  art.     Its  professed  purpose,  as  we  have  ob~ 

e,  is.  to  teach  us  the  right  use  of  reason,  both  in 

:?tion  and  in  the  communication  of  TRUTH  ;  —  to 

infor  ow  to  introduce  clearness  and  good  order  among 

our  r     -,     —  to  explain  the  OPERATIONS  of  the  mind  which 

^aiit  about  those  ideas  ;  and  by  the  proper  exer- 

ich  operations,  we  shall  be  least  in  danger  of  de- 

viatir          _•  error. 

OSR  STANDING  is  occupied  entirely  with  knowi- 

<  -<1  of  all  science  is  to  instruct  us  in  knowledge  ; 

and  L.     -.  ne  end  is  pursued  by  all  study,  whether  prudential, 

poll!          aoral,  or  mechanical.     In  what  way  soever  we  ex- 

ercise our  understanding,  it  is  to  obtain  some  in- 

that  we  did  not  before  possess  ;  and  the  design  of 

sidered  as  an  art,  is  to  hold  forth  the  manner  of 

that  knowledge  with  the  greatest  ease  and  expe- 

•  iiese  views  of  the  nature  and  end  of  Logic  it  is  ap 
d  tat  it  claims  our  attention,  as  one  of  the  first  arts 
,K  ;    we  should  apply,  in  our  progress  towards  knowl* 
,  either  as  the  best  means  of  fortifying  or  of  improving 


the  understanding.     The  more  acute  the  understanding  is5 

the  more  successful  will  it  be  in  the  investigations  of  science. 

The  less  it  is  liable  to  err,  the  more  certain  and  expeditious 

is  progress  in  new  and  untried  pursuits.     The  more 

e  Acquainted  with  those  sophistries  which  have  misled 

asoners,  the  less  liable  shall  we  be  to  fall  into  simi- 

lar n\  ^  ikes.     The  better  we  understand  the  nature  of  the 

instrument  which  we  employ,  we  may  reasonably  expect  to  be 

more     .pert  and  successful  in  its  use.    Everything,  then, 

in  L:;ic,  that  does  not  contribute  to  improve  the  under- 


INTRODUCTION. 


standing,  and  to  promote  our  progress  in  useful  knowledge, 
deserves  no  attention  ;  but  every  thing,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  promotes  these  ends,  cannot  obtain  more  attention  than 
it  deserves. 

Though  no  art  ever  gave  occasion  to  so  much  idle  research 
and  fanciful  refinement  as  Logic ;  though  none  ever  so  much 
bewildered  the  human  mind,  and  repressed  °^crj  useful 
exertion  of  the  understanding,  as  that  which  pretended  to 
enlighten  and  improve  this  faculty,  and  to  guide  it  in  the 
road  to  truth  ;  though  all  the  syllogism  of  the  schools,  after 
the  thousand  volumes  that  have  been  written  on  it,  and  af- 
ter the  employment  of  a  series  of  ages  to  bring  it  to  perfec- 
tion, never  enriched  science  or  art  with  one  useful  discovery ; 
we  must  not  rashly  conclude  that  these  abuses  furnish 
proofs  of  the  general  inutility,  or  insignificance,  of  Logic  as 
an  art. 

As»  then,  the  sophistry  and  absurdity  with  which  Logic 
has  been  disgraced,  are  no  valid  objections  against  its  use  in 
a  philosophical  course  of  education,  so  neither  is  it  to  be  con- 
temned because  we  hear  some  men  reason  very  justly  with- 
out any  acquaintance  with  its  rules.  There  is  in  all  man- 
kind some  natural  logic,  for  it  is  one  of  those  arts  which 
may  be  learned  by  practice,  without  the  knowledge  of 
theory* 

One  of  the  best  methods  of  making  progress  in  the  art  of 
reasoning,  is  actual  practice,  or  the  acquisition  of  the  habit 
of  examining  a  train  of  ideas  constituting  an  argument ;  an 4 
of  this  branch  of  the  art  all  men  acquire  some  share  by  ex 
perience — many  men  acquire  a  great  deal — but  though  long 
experience  in  sound  reasoning  may  render  us  expert  logi- 
cians, in  the  same  manner  as  practice,  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  principles,  may  form  eminent  practitioners  in  any 
other  art ;  yet  this  success  will  not  justify  any  inference 
against  the  utility,  or  even  the  propriety  of  the  theory. 
The  end  of  all  theory  in  the  arts,  is,  to  render  us  more  me 


INTRODUCTION".  XI 

.-al  and  roi-u table  in  their  performance  ;  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  principles  on  which,  in  this  volume,  the  art  of 
Logic  is  1,  can  scarcely  fail  to  facilitate  the  progress 

rh  in  becoming  good  reasoners. 

Of  tins  they  may  be  assured,  if  they  have  sufficient  can- 

! here  is  such  a  thing  as  good  reasoning,  that 

omplishment  or  qualification  any  man  can 

re  more  -mportant,  than  the  art  of  reasoning  well. 

youth  shall  become,  in  life,  men  of  specula- 

or  men  of  business,  in  every  step  they  take,  their  ra- 

.nust  be  constantly  exercised  ;  and  the  sub- 

now  speak  is  calculated  entirely  to  render 

I  successful  in  that  exercise. 

The  FIFTH  BOOK  which  offers  a  sketch  of  "The  Philoso 
»f  Human  Knowledge,"  seemed  a  necessary  Appendix 
> 3  volume;  but  it  was  not  my  object,  in  the  compass  oi 
a  few  pages,  to  enter  upon  a  subject  which  I  intend  to  pub- 
in  a  separate  work,  as  a  sequel  to  my  Grammars  of 
101  ic  and  Logic. 

And,  for  the  purpose  of  initiating  youth  in  the  doctrines 
.0  Philosophy  of  Mind,  I  have  constructed,  on  this  Gram- 
mar of  Logic,  n.  Book  of  "  Questions  and  Exercises,"  with  a 
•*  Key"  to  the  .-ame  ;  as,  in  my  humble  judgment,  no  disci- 
pline is  more  successful  in  accomplishing  its  end,  than  that 
h  reduce*  literature,  philosophy,  and  science,  to  inter- 
tory  discourse,  conducted  in  the  style  and  manner  of  a 
;ted  dialog  •-"<  e.     The  ease  with  which  the  entire  volume 
may  be  converted  into  "  Dialogues  on  Logic  and  Intellectual 
Philosophy,55  by  means  of  its  companion,  the   "Book  of 
Questions,"  can  only  be  equalled  by  the  advantages  which 
h  ever  derive  from  catechetical  instruction,  possessing 
s  of  living  language,  and  familiarising  the 
kers  to  unpremeditated  extempore  discussion.     If  any 
the  observations  contained  in  this  Intro- 
•ti  action,  it  mu     be  the  practice  Qf  the  catechetical  method 


Xil  INTRODUCTION. 

which  I  now  recommend — a  practice  which  distinguished 
the  instructions  of  Socrates^  which  Plato  has  preserved  in 
his  Dialogues,  and  to  which  Cicero  has  reduced  almost  all 
his  philosophical  writings. 

ALEXANDER  JAMIESON. 

London,  March,  1819. 


BOOK  L 

CHAPTER  Page 

I.  TERMS  DEFINED  AND  EXPLAINED 17 

II.  PRINCIPLES  TAKEN  FOR  GRANTED     -...--.-27 

III.  OF  HYPOTHESES 32 

IV.  OF  ANALOGY 35 

V.  OF  THE  PROPER  MEANS  OF  KNOWING  THE  OPERATIONS  OF 

OUR  OWN  MINDS 38 

VI.  OF  THE  DIFFICULTY  OF  ATTENDING  TO  THE  OPERATIONS  OF 

OUR  OWN  MINDS,  INTERSPERSED  WITH  OBSERVATIONS 
WHICH  MAY  ASSIST  US  IN  OVERCOMING  THIS  DIFFICULTY     40 

VII.  DIVISIONS  OF  THE  POWERS  OF  THE  MIND .42 


BOOK  II. 

OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 

I.  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS 45 

II.  OF  SENSATION --46 

III.  OF  PERCEPTION 50 

IV.  OF  ATTENTION 53 

V.  OF  CONCEPTION 61 

VI.  OF  ABSTRACTION      --------....66 

Of  Abstract  or  general  Terms     ---....-67 

Of  General  Conceptions     -     .-.---...70 
Of  General  Conceptions  formed  by  analysing  Objects  -     73 
Of  the  Operation  of  Generalizing     -------     75 

General  conceptions  formed  by  Combinations      -     -     -     77 

VII.  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS,  OR  COMBINATION       -     -     84 
Association  by  essential  Relations     -     ------     86 

Accidental  Relations  or  Sources  of  Association     -     -     -     93 
Of  the  Influence  of  Association  on  our  various  Judgments     96 

.  As  it  affects  the  Decisions  of  Taste  -------     ^. 

As  it  affects  the  speculative  Opinions  of  Mankind     -     -     97 
The  Influence  of  arbitrary  Association,  as  it  affects  our 
Moral  Judgment  ------------  101 

VIII.  OF  MEMORY        102 

Things  obvious  with  Regard  to  Memory     -     -    .     -     -    ib. 
Memory  an  original  Faculty    •-.---.-.  104 
Analysis  of  tjie  Faculty  of  Memory   - 105 


^1V  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  Page 

Varieties  of  Memory  in  different  Individuals  -     ...  107 

Of  the  Decay  of  Memory  in  old  People 109 

Of  the  Improvement  of  Memory 110 

IX.  OF  IMAGINATION  ----*------...  112 

Analyses  of  the  Operations  of  Imagination       ...     -113 
Of  Imagination  in  its  Relation  to  some  of  the  Fine  Arts  -  120 
The  Relation  of  Imagination  and  of  Taste  to  Genius      -  122 
Of  the  Influence  of  Imagination  on  Human  Character 
and  Happiness      ---------_._  123 

On  the  Culture  of  the  Imagination 125 

X.  OF  JUDGMENT 127 

Analysis  of  this  Faculty  in  general  -------*£. 

Of  the  Exercise  of  Judgment  in  the  Formation  of  ab- 
stract and  general  Conceptions 131 

Of  the  Objects  of  Sense 133 

XI.  O*  REASON - 136 

Definition  and  Analysis  of  this  Faculty ib. 

Of  Demonstrative  Reasoning 139 

Of  Probable  Reasoning      -------._-  141 

Division  of  Probable  Evidence  into  different  Kinds  -     -  143 

XII.  OF  MORAL  PERCEPTION 149 

The  Rational  Principles  of  Action  in  Man ib. 

Of  Regard  to  our  Good  on  the  whole 150 

Analysis  of  Conscience,  or  the  Moral  Principle     ...  153 
Analyses  of  Duty,  Rectitude,  and  Moral  Obligation  -     -  156 
Analysis  of  the  Sense  of  Duty      --------  158 

Of  Moral  Approbation  and  Disapprobation     -    -     -     -  160 


BOOK  III. 

SUBJECTS  OF  COLLATERAL  INQUIRY  WITH  THE  INT£L> 
LECTUAL  POWERS. 

I.    O¥  THE  PRIMARY   AND  SECONDARY  QUALITIES  OF  BODIES    162 

II.  ON  NATURAL  LANGUAGE  AND  SIGNS  -  -  -  -  -  -  -165 

HI.  OF  MATTER  AND  SPACE 168 

IV.  OF  DURATION 171 

V.  OF  IDENTITY 173 

What  is  meant  by  Identity  in  general ib. 

Of  Personal  Identity 174 

VI.  OF  THE  THAIN  OF  THOUGHT  IN  THE  MIND  .....  177 

VII.  OF  PREJUDICES 187 

Prejudices  of  the  first  Class,  or  Idola  Tribus  -  -  -  -  188 
Prejudices  of  the  second  Class,  or  Idola  Specus  -  -  -  193 
Prejudices  of  the  third  Class,  or  Idola  Fori  -  -  -  -  194 
The  Prejudices  of  the  fourth  Class,  or  Idola  Theatri  -  198 
Rules  to  prevent  Prejudices,  and  direct  our  Judgments  200 
Concluding  Remarks 206 


CONTENTS.  XV 


BOOK  IV. 

GRAMMAR  OF  LOGIC. 

CHAPTER                                                                                      Page 
I.  OF  IDEAS 207 

Of  simple  and  complex  Ideas 208 

Of  distinct  and  confused  Ideas ib. 

Of  adequate  and  inadequate  Ideas 209 

Of  particular  or  abstracted  Ideas 210 

Rules  for  the  Acquisition  and  Examination  of  Ideas  and 

Words 211 

Of  the  Ambiguity  of  Words 215 

Of  Enumeration,  Description,  and  Definition  -     -    -     -  219 

II.  OF  PROPOSITIONS -...  223 

Knowledge  and  Truth ---&'&. 

Different  Kinds  of  Propositions    --------  225 

Sources  of  Human  Knowledge 228 

Of  mathematical,  moral,  political,  and  prudential  Reason- 
ing     232 

Different  species  of  Reasoning     --------  238 

Examples  of  Reasoning  a  Priori 240 

Example  of  Reasoning  a  Posteriori  -------     ib. 

Analytic  and  Synthetic  Reasoning    -------  241 

Example  of  Analytic  Reasoning  --------  242 

III.  OF  SOPHISTRY 243 

IV.  OF  REASONING  AND  SYLLOGISM     --------  249 

Of  the  Constitution  of  Syllogisms 250 

Of  plain  simple  Syllogisms,  and  their  Rules     -     -     -     -  23& 
Of  the  Modes  and  Figures  of  simple  Syllogisms  -     -     -  255 

Of  Complex  Syllogisms --  259 

Of  Conjunctive  Syllogisms      ---------  261 

Of  Compound,  Imperfect,  or  Irregular  Syllogisms    -     -  265 
Of  the  Merit  o£  Syllogistic  Reasoning 272 


BOOK  V. 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

I.  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  MEMORY   -     -  278 

II.  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  UNDERSTAND- 

ING   -     -     -     -  -285 

III.  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  IMAGINATION  295 


GRAMMAR  OF  LOGIC, 


AND 


INTELLECTUAL 


CHAPTER  I. 

TERMS  DEFINED  AND  EXPLAINED. 

1.  THE  professed  end  of  LOGIC  is  to  teach  men  to 
think,  to  judge,   to    reason,    and   to    communicate   their 
thoughts  to  each  other  with  precision  and  accuracy. 

Observation  I.  This  then  being  the  design  oflogic,  it  has  justly 
been  styled,  The  history  of  the  human  mind ;  inasmuch  as  it  traces 
the  progress  of  our  knowledge  from  our  first  and  simple  percep- 
tions, through  all  the  different  combinations,  and  all  those  nume- 
rous deductions  which  result  from  variously  comparing  these  per- 
ceptions one  with  another. 

2.  It  is  thus  that  we  are  let  into  the  frame  and  contexture  of  our 
own  minds,  and  learn  in  what  manner  we  ought  to  conduct  our 
thoughts,  in  order  to  arrive  at  truth,  and  avoid  error.  We  see  how 
to  build  one  discover)'  upon  another,  and  by  preserving  the  chain 
of  reasoning  uniform  and  unbroken,  to  pursue  the  relations  of  things 
through  all  their  labyrinths  and  windings,  and  at  length  exhibit 
them  to  the  mind  with  all  the  advantages  of  light  and  conviction. 

2.  By  the  MIND  qf  man  we  understand  that  in  him  which 
thinks,  and  feels,  and  wills,  and  which  is  conscious  of  its  ac  - 
tions  or  operations. 

3.  The  essence  of  body,  as  well  as  that  of  mind,  is  un- 
known to  us,     We  know  certain  properties  of  the  first,  and 


18  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  r, 

certain  operations  of  the  last,  and  by  these  properties  and 
operations  we  define  or  describe  both  body  and  mind. 

4.  We  define  body  to  be  that  which  is  extended,  figured, 
coloured,  moveable,  divisible,  hard  or  soft,  rough  or  smooth, 
hot  or  cold ;  that  is,  we  define  it  in  no  other  way  than  by 
enumerating  its  sensible  qualities. 

5.  In  like  manner,  we  define  mind  to  be,  that  which 
thinks.     We  are  not  immediately  conscious  of  its  existence, 
but  we  are  cmuoiins  of  sensation,  thought,  and  volition; 
operations  v<hid'  imply  the  existence  of  something  that  feels. 

.thinks,,  and  \vjjjs.  Every  man,  too,  is  impressed  with  an  ir- 
rcsht.'bio  conviction,  that  all  these  sensations,  thoughts,  and 
volitions,  belong  to  one  and  the  same  being,  which  he  calls 
himself;  a  being  which  he  is  led,  by  the  constitution  of  his 
nature,  to  consider  as  something  distinct  from  his  body,  as 
not  liable  to  be  impaired  by  the  loss  or  mutilation  of  any  of 
his  organs  ;  and  this  being,  this  principle  of  intelligence,  we 
call  the  mind  or  soul  of  man. 

6.  When  we  witness  the  effects  of  similar  operations  or 
actions  performed  by  our  fellow  men,  we  have  sufficient  ev- 
idence that  all  human  beings  have  minds. 

Obs.1.  The  conduct  of  brute  animals,  too,  proves  that  they 
have  a  thinking"  principle,  though  of  a  nature  very  inferior  to  that 
of  man,  insomuch  that  its  principal  qualities  are  included  in  those  of 
the  human  intellect. 

2.  The  proofs  of  intelligence  and  of  superintending1  providence, 
which  are  amply  furnished  by  a  survey  of  nature's  works,  lead  us  to 
a  firm  belief  in  the  existence"  of  a  supreme  and  all-governing-  Mind, 
of  a  nature  infinitely  superior  to  that  of  the  minds  of  men. 

3.  Many  speculative  men,  both  ancient  and  modern,  have  con- 
jectured that  those  natural  phenomena  which  cannot  be  easily  ex- 
plained by  mere  matter  and  motion,  are  the  operations  of  various 
orders  of  intelligent  beings,  in  the  universe,  of  various  rank  and  dig- 
nity.     Others  have  been  inclined  to  explain  these  phenomena  by 
the  agency  of  beings  that  are  active  without  intelligence,  so  as  to  per- 
form their  destined  work  without  any  knowledge  or  intention.     But 

ay  safely  say,  that,  whatever  may  be  the  result  of  future  investi- 
gations or  discoveries,  we  have,  as  yet,  no  certain  evidence  with  res 
pectto  cither  of  these  conjectures. 

7.  By  the  OPERATIONS  of  the  mind,  we  understand  every 
mode  of  thinking  of  which  we  are  conscious. 

In  all  languages,  as  far  as  we  know,  the  various  modes  of  thinking 
have  .always  been  called  operations  of  the  mind,  or  by  names  of  the 
same  import. 

8.  We  ascribe  to  body  various  properties,  but  not  opera- 
tions:  it  is  extended,  divisible,  moveable,  in^rt;  it  con  tin- 


CHAP.  i.  Terms  defined  and  explained.  19 

ues  in  any  stale  in  which  it  is  put ;  every  change  of  its  state 
is  the  effect  of  some  force  impressed  upon  it,  and  is  exactly 
proportional  to  the  force  impressed,  and  in  the  precise  di- 
rection of  that  force. 

These  are  the  general  properties  of  matter,  and  these  are  not  op- 
erations ;  on  the  contrary,  they  imply  its  being  a  dead  inactive 
thing-,  which  moves  only  as  it  is  moved,  and  acts  only  as  it  is  acted 
upon. 

9.  But  the  mind  is,  from  its  very  nature,  a  living  and  ac- 
tive being.     Every  thing*  we  know  of  it  implies  life  and  ac- 
tive energy;  and  tha  reason  why  all  its  modes  of  thinking 
are  called  its  operations,  is,  that  in  all,  or  in  most  of  them, 
it  is  not  merely  passive  as  body  is,  but  is  really  and  proper- 
ly active.  > 

10.  In  all  ages,  and  in 'all  languages,  ancient  and  modern, 
the  various  modes  of  thinking  have  been  expressed  by  words 
of  active  signification;   such  as  seeing,  hearing,  reasoning, 
willing,  and  the  like. 

Corollary  .  It  seem?,  therefore,  to  be  the  natural  judgment  of 
mankind,  that  the  mind  is  active  in  its  various  ways  of  thinking;  and 
for  tliis  reason  they  are  called  its  operations,  and  are  expressed  by 
active  verbs. 

11.  Every  operation  supposes  a  power  in  the  being  that 
operates  *  for,  to  suppose  any  thing  to  operate,  which  has  no 
power  to  operate,  is  manifestly  absurd.     But,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  no  absurdity  in  supposing  a  being  to  have 
power  to  operate,  when  that  being  does  not  operate. 

Illustration.  Thus,  I  may  have  power  to  walk,  when  I  sit  ;  or  to 
speak,  when  I  am  silent. 

Carol.  Every  operation,  therefore,  implies  power  ;  but  the  power 
doeb  no*  imply  its  being  always  exerted  to  produce  an  operation. 

12.  The  terms  faculty  ami  power,  as  applied  to  the  mind, 
are  not  exactly  synonvmous,  though  they  are  often  taken  in 
the  same  radical  meaning.     The  latter  is  of  more  extensive 
import  than  the  former,  since  it  may  be  used  in  relation  to 
material  as  well  as  mental  objects. 

13.  From  observing  the  changes  which  are  made,  or  the 
effects  which  are  produced,  by  one  external  object  upon  an- 
other, as  well  as  by  these  objects  upon  the  mind,  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses,  we  derive  our  first  notion  of  power. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  if  a  needle  be  placed  on  a  table,  standing  horizon- 
tally, it  lies  at  rest ;  bitf  if  a  magnet  be  brought  within  a  certain  dis- 
tance of  the  needle,  motion  instantly  commences,  and  the  needle 
rushes  to  the  magnet.  You  have  witnessed  the  change  ;  you  contem- 
plate the  effect— the  two  objects  are  conjoined,  Remove  the  mag- 


20  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i. 

net,  leave  the  needle  on  the  table  at  rest,  and  place  a  piece  of  flint 
where  the  magnet  lay  when  it  attracted  the  needle,  no  motion 
takes  place,  the  needle  remains  at  rest. 

2.  Now  that  in  the  magnet  which  produced  motion  in  the  needle,, 
is  not  perceivable  by  the  senses  ;  for  it  is  neither  in  the  shape,  nor 
in  the  colour,  nor  in  the  weight  of  the  substance  called  mag-net, 
that  this  singular  property  resides.   But  to  that  unknown  something1, 
to  that  unperceived  energy  in  the  magnet,  the  term  power  is  given  ; 
and  when  we  speak  of  this  energy  or  property,  in  relation  to 'the  ef- 
fect— that  is  to  say,  the  conjunction  of  the  two  objects — we  call  it 
the  cause  of  the  motion  that  we  witnessed  in  the  needle  rushing  to 
the  magnet. 

3.  This  is  an  apt  illustration  of  the  connexion,  or  relation,  that  sub- 
sists between  cause  and  effect. 

14.  By  observing  the  changes  of  motion  and  direction  in 
the  several  members  of  the  body,  arising  from  an  act  of  the 
will,  we  arrive  at  a  similar  conclusion.     We  are  conscious 
of  an  exercise  of  that  faculty,  and  we  observe,  at  the  same 
Instant,  that  a  change  in  the  members  of  the  body  has  taken 
place.     We  are  likewise  conscious  of  certain  acts  of  the 
will  directing  the  motions  of  the  mind.     The  act  of  the  will 
and  the  corresponding  change  are,  in  all  those  cases,  so  close- 
ly conjoined,  that  they  naturally  force  themselves  upon  our 
observation,  and,  ever  niter,  remain  associated  in  the  parti- 
cular relation  of  cause  and  effect.     What  did  we  observe 
more  than  the  change?  Nothing. — We  saw  indeed  a  fact, 
in  a  particular  circumstance,  resulting  as  a  consequent  from 
an  antecedent;  but  of  the  cause,  that  is  to  say,  i\ie  power, 
considered  metaphysically,  we  can  form  no  Distinct  notion. 

15.  We  can  entertain  clear  and  distinct  notions  of  an  ef- 
fect, while  we  find  it  impossible  to  penetrate  into  the  na- 
ture of  the  cause  whence  that  effect  proceeds.     Of  the  ef- 
fects, for  instance,  which  spring  from  the  union  of  mind  and 
body,  in  the  human  constitution,  we  have  a  lively  percep- 
tion ;  but  of  the  principle  upon  which  that  union  is  founded, 
*ve  cannot  form  the  most  remote  conception. 

Illus.  1.  But  to  illustrate  that  our  purest  and  most  correct  notions 
of  power  are  derived  from  mind,  lay  a  ball  on  a  billiard  table,  and 
:t  lies  at  rest ;  but  bring*  a  mace  in  contact  with  the  ball,  and  it  is 
instantly  put  in  motion.  In  this  case,  though  the  hand  of  a  human  . 
being  moved  the  mace — though  the  mace  hitting*  the  ball  put  it  in 
motion — the  source  of  that  motion  is  traced  up  to  the  mind,  whichv 
by  an  act  of  the  will  to  move  the  ball,  stretches  forth  the  bodily  or- 
gan that  grasped  the  mace. 

2.  Again,  let  us  conceive  a  painter  painting1  his  own  likeness, 
The  brush  which  he  uses,  and  which  comes  in  contact  with  the 
Canvass,  possesses  no  power  of  forming1  a  likeness  of  itself,  far  less 


OHAP.  i.  Terms  defined  and  explained.  21 

of  the  human  countenance.  Nor  is  the  power  in  the  hand  of  the 
artist,  which,  as  in  the  former  example,  obeys  the  will ;  nor  in  his 
eye,  though  it  be  the  chief  organ  on  which  the  correctness  of  the 
likeness  depends  ;  and  it  resides  not  in  the  mirror,  which  takes  no 
part  in  the  operation  of  painting1;  but  the  source  of  motion  in  the 
eye  and  in  the  hand,  is  in  the  mind,  which,  by  an  act  of  the  will,  ex- 
erts the  eye  in  viewing  one  object,  and  in  conveying  back  to  the 
mind  its  view  of  another  object,  that  the  hand  delineates. 

16.  It  is  said  above,  that  the  terms  faculty  and  power 
have  nearly  the  same  radical  meaning.     The  term  power  is 
used  in  relation  both  to  material  and  mental  objects.     Thus 
a  stone  has  the  power  of  falling  to  the  ground.     The  term 

faculty  is  used  in  reference  to  the  understanding  and  voli- 
tion of  the  human  mind.  The  terms  now  defined  are  not 
applied  to  the  passions  of  the  soul  of  man ;  for  to  those  active 
energies,  or  principles,  as  desire,  hatred,  joy,  love,  anger,  re- 
venge, £c.  we  never  use  such  expressions  as  the  "  faculty 
of  desire,"  or  the  "  power  of  hatred." 

17.  There  is  a  distinction  between  things  in  the  mind 
and  things  external  to  the  mind.     The  powers,  faculties,  and 
operations  of  the  mind,  are  things  in  the  mind.     Every 
thing  is  said  to  be  in  the  mind  of  which  the  mind  is  the  sub- 
ject. 

1 8.  It  is  evident,  that  there  are  some  things  which  cannot 
exist  without  a  subject  to  which  they  belong,  or  of  which 
they  are  attributes. 

Illus.  Thus,  colour  must  be  in  something  coloured ;  figure  in 
something  figured  ;  thought  being  an  act  of  mind,  can  only  belong 
to  something  that  acts  or  thinks ;  and  volition  cannot  exist  but  in 
some  being  that  wills.  When,  therefore,  we  speak  of  things  in  the 
mind,  we  understand  by  this,  things  of  which  the  mind  is  the  sub- 
ject. 

19.  Excepting  the  mind  itself,  and  things  within  the  mind, 
all  other  things  are  said  to  be  external,  or  without  the  mind. 

20.  There  is  a  figurative  sense   in  which  things  are  said 
to  be  in  the  mind. 

Illu8.  Thus  we  say,  such  a  thirty  is  no.  in  our  ihincl,  meaning  no 
more  than  that  we  had  not  the  least  thought  of  it.  For,  by  a  figure, 
we  put  the  thing  for  the  thought  of  it.  In  this  sense,  external  thing3 
are  in  the  mind  as  often  as  they  are  objects  of  thought. 

21.  Thinking  is  a  very  general  word,  that  includes  all 
the  operations  of  our  mimls. 

22.  To  perceive,  to  remember,  to  be  conscious,  and  to 
conceive  or  imagine,  are  words  that  signify  different  opera- 
tions of  mind,  which  ai  e  distinguished  in  ail  languages,  and 
by  all  men  that  think. 

3* 


*#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  r, 

.  1.  We  are  never  said  to  perceive  things,  of  the  existence  of 
which  we  have  not  a  full  conviction.  We  may  co?iceive  or  imagine 
a  mountain  of  gold,  or  a  winged-horse  ;  but  no  man  says  that  he 
perceives  such  a  creature  of  imagination  as  a  winged  horse.  Thus. 
perception  is  distinguished  from  conception,  or  imagination. 

2.  Perception  is  applied  only  to  external  objects,  not  to  those 
that  are  in  the  mind  itself.     When  I  am  pained,  i  do  not  say,  that  I 
perceive  pain,  but  that  I  feel  it,  or  that  I  am  conscious  of  it.     Thus. 
perception  is  distinguished  from  consciousness. 

3.  The  immediate  object  of  perception  must  be  something  pre- 
sent, and  not  what  is  past.     We  may  remember  what  is  past,  but  we 
do  not  perceive  it.     I  may  say,  I  perceive  such  a  person  has  had  the 
small  pox ;  but  this  phrase  is  figurative,  although  the  figure  is  so  fa- 
miliar that  it  is  not  observed.     The  meaning  of  it  is,  that  I  perceive 
the  pits  in  his  face,  which  are  certain  signs  of  his  having  had  the 
small-pox.     We  say  that  we  perceive  the  thing  signified,  when  we 
perceive  only  the  sign.     But  when  the  word  perception  is  used  pro- 
perly, and  without  any  figure,  it  is  never  applied  to  tilings  past ; 
and  thus  it  is  distinguished  from  remembrance. 

23.  Perception  is  most  properly  applied  to  the  evidence 
which  we  have  of  external  objects  by  our  senses.      Seeing, 
hearing,  smelling,  tasting,  and  touching  or  feeling,  are  words 
that  express  the  operations  proper  to  each  sense ;  perceiv- 
ing expresses  that  which  is  common  to  them  all. 

24.  Consciousness  signifies  that  immediate  knowledge 
which  we  have  of  our  present  thoughts  and  purposes,  and, 
in  general,  of  all  the  present  operations  of  our  minds.     To 
apply  consciousness,  therefore,  to  things  past,  is  to  con- 
found  it  with  memory. 

Consciousness  is  only  of  things  in  the  mind,  and  not  of 
things  external,  or  without  the  mind. 

25.  Conceiving,  imagining,  and  apprehending,  are  com- 
monly used  as  synonymous  in  our  language,  and  signify  the 
same  thing  which  the  logicians  call  simple  apprehension. 

Illus.  Simple  apprehension  is  an  operation  of  mind  different  from 
all  those  we  have  mentioned.  Whatever  we  perceive,  whatever 
we  remember,  whatever  we  are  conscious  of,  we  have  a  full  per- 
suasion or  conviction  of  its  existence.  But  we  may  conceive  or 
imagine  what  has  no  existence,  and  what  we  firmly  believe  to  have 
no  existence.  What  never  had  an  existence  cannot  be  remembered  ,- 
what  has  no  existence  at  present  cannot  be  the  object  of  perception 
or  of  consciousness ;  but  that  which  never  had  existence,  or  that 
which  has  no  existence,  may  be  conceived.  Every  man  knows, 
that  it  is  as  easy  to  conceive  a  winged-horse,  or  a  centaur,  as  it  is  to 
conceive  a  horse,  or  a  man. 

Corol.  Let  it  be  observed,  therefore,  that  to  conceive,  to  imagine, 
to  apprehend,  when  taken  in  the  proper  sense,  signify  an  act  of  the 
mind  which  implies  no  belief  or  judgment  at  all.  It  is  an  act  of  the 
mind  by  which  nothing  is  affirmed  or  denied,  and  which  therefore 
:an  be  neither  true  nor  false. 


CHAP.  i.  Terms  defined  and  explained. 

26.  When  these  words  are  used  as  above,  to  express  sim- 
ple apprehension,  they  are  followed  by  a  noun  in  the  accu- 
sative or  objective  case,  which  signifies  the  object  conceived ; 
as  I  conceive  an  Egyptian  pyramid.     This  implies  no  judg 
ment. 

"27.  But  there  is  another  and  a  very  different  meaning  of 
those  words,  so  common  and  so  well  authorised  in  language, 
that  it  cannot  easily  be  avoided;  and,  on  that  account,  we 
ought  to  be  the  more  on  our  guard,  that  we  be  not  misled  by 
the  ambiguity. 

Iilus.  Politeness  and  good-breeding-  lead  men,  on  most  occa 
sions,  to  express  their  opinions  with  modesty,  especially  when  they 
differ  from  others  whom  they  respect.  Therefore,  when  a  man 
would  express  his  opinion  modestly,  instead  of  saying",  u  This  is  my 
opinion,"  or,  "  This  is  my  judgment,"  which  has  the  air  of  dogmat- 
icalness  ;  he  says,  "  I  conceive  it  to  be  thus,  I  imagine,  or  I  appre- 
hend, it  to  be  thus,"  which  is  understood  as  a  modest  judgment.  In 
like  manner,  when  any  thing  is  said  which  we  take  to  be  impossi- 
ble, we  say,  "  We  cannot  conceive  how  it  could  be,"  thereby  inti- 
mating, that  we  cannot  believe  it. 

28.  But  when  the  words  conceive,  imagine,  or  apprehend, 
are  used  to  express  opinion  or  judgment,  they  are  common- 
ly followed  by  a  verb  in  the  infinitive  mood  ;  as,  I  conceive 
the  Egyptian  pyramids  to  be  the  most  ancient  monuments  of 
human  art. 

Illus.  This  implies  judgment.  When  the  words  are  used  in  this 
last  sense,  the  thing1  conceived  must  be  a  proposition,  because  judg-- 
ment  cannot  be  expressed  but  by  a  proposition.  When  they  are 
used  in  the  first  sense  (26.),  the  thing  conceived  may  be  no  propo- 
sition, but  a  simple  term  only ;  as  a  pyramid,  an  obelisk.  Yet  even 
a  proposition  may  be  simply  apprehended,  without  forming  any 
judgment  of  its  truth  or  falsehood ;  for  it  is  one  thing  to  conceive  the 
meaning  of  a  proposition  ;  it  is  another  thing  to  judg-e  it  to  be  true 
or  false. 

29.  Most  of  the  operations  of  mind,  from  their  very  na- 
ture, must  have  objects  to  which  they  are  directed,  and 
about  which  they  are  employed.     He  that  perceives,  must 
perceive  something  ;  and  that  which  he  perceives  is  called 
the  object  of  his  perception. 

Corol.  It  is,  therefore,  impossible  to  perceive  without  having 
some  object  of  perception.  The  mind  that  perceives,  the  object 
perceived,  and  the  operation  of  perceiving  that  object,  are  distinct 
things,  and  are  distinguished  in  the  structure  of  all  languag-es. 

SO.  In  this  sentence,  /  see,  or  perceive  the  moon  ;  I  is  the 
person  or  mind  ;  the  active  verb  see,  denotes  the  operation 
of  that  mind ;  and  the  moon  denotes  the  object. 


£4  jl  Grammar  of  Logiz.  BOOK  i, 

31.  What  we  have  said  of  perceiving,  is  equally  applica- 
ble to  most  operations  of  mind,  which  are,  in  all  languages, 
expressed  by  active  transitive  verbs  ;  and  such  verbs  require 
an  agent  and  an  object. 

Coral.  Whence  it  is  evident,  that  all  mankind,  both  those  who 
have  contrived  language,  and  those  who  use  it  with  understanding1, 
have  distinguished  these  three  things  as  different;  to  wit,  the 
operations  of  the  mind,  which  are  expressed  by  active  verbs,  the 
mind  itself,  which  is  the  nominative  to  those  verbs  ;  and  the  vbjecty 
which  is  the  oblique  case  governed  by  them. 

32.  The  word  idea,  in  popular  language,  signifies  precise- 
ly the  same  thing  that  we  commonly  express  by  the  active 
participles  conceiving  or  apprehending. 

Jllus.  1.  Thus,  to  have  an  idea  of  a  thing1,  is  to  conceive  it.  To 
have  a  distinct  idea  of  it,  is  to  conceive  it  distinctly.  To  have  no 
idea  of  it,  is  not  to  conceive  it  at  all. 

2.  Idea,  therefore,  signifies  the  same  thing  as  conception,  appre- 
hension, notion. 

S3.  When  the  word  idea  is  taken  in  this  popular  senses 
no  man  can  possibly  doubt  whether  he  has  ideas ;  for  he  that 
doubts  must  think,  and  to  think  is  to  have  ideas. 

34.  The  term  idea,  coining  from  the  Greek  verb  \htv,  pro- 
perly signifies  a  thought,  representative  of  such  objects  as 
have  been  perceived  by  the  sense  of  sight. 

QQS.  It  is  solely  owing  to  the  poverty  of  language  that  this  word 
is  also  used  for  the  notions  which  we  have  of  things,  received  by 
means  of  the  other  senses  ;  and,  farther  still,  to  those  primary  no- 
tions or  elements  of  abstract  thought,  which  compose  trains  of  ar- 
gument and  chains  of  reasoning,  in  the  mind  of  the  philosopher  or 
the  statesman. 

35.  When,  therefore,  in  common  language,  we  speak  of 
having  an  idea  of  any  thing,  we  mean  no  more  by  that  ex- 
pression than  to  conceive  of  it. 

Khis.  But  as  we  cannot  conceive,  or  have  a  notion  of  any  thing- 
without  thinking  of  it,  to  constitute  an  idea  implies  a  mind  that 
thinks ;  an  act  of  the  mind  which  we  call  thinking ;  and  an  object 
about  which  we  think. 

36.  The  word  idea,  however,  in  a  philosophical  sense 
means  some  image,  or  representative  of  an  external  object 
present  to  the  mind. 

Hlus.  1.  The  idea  is  in  the  mind  itself,  and  can  have  no  existence 
but  in  a  mind  that  thinks  ;  but  the  remote  or  mediate  object  may  be 
something  external,  as -the  sun  or  moon  ;  it  may  be  something  past 
or  future  ;  it  may  be  something  which  never  existed ;  and  we  may 
observe  that  this  meaning  is  built  upon  a  philosophical  opinion. 

2.  For,  if  philosophers  had  riot  believed  that  there  are  such  im- 


CHAP.  i.  Terms  defined  and  explained.  25 

mediate  objects  of  all  our  thoughts  in  the  mind,  they  would  never 
have  used  the  word  idea  to  express  them. 

3.  But  the  term  idea  taken  in  this  sense,  is  to  be  considered  a 
mere  fiction  of  philosophers ;  and  use,  the  arbiter  of  language,  hath 
now,  in  all  popular  discussions,  authorized  as  synonyma  the  words 
thought,  notion,  apprehension,  and  idea. 

37.  When  a  figure  is  stamped  upon  a  body  by  pressure, 
that  figure  is  called  an  impression,  as  the  impression  of  a 
seal  on  wax,  or  of  printing-types,  or  of  a  copper-plate,  on 
paper.     This  seems  now  to  be  the  literal  sense  of  the  word ; 
the  effect  borrowing  its  name  from  the  cause. 

Obs.  But  by  metaphor  or  analogy,  like  most  other  words,  its  mea- 
ning is  extended,  to  signify  any  change  produced  in  a  body  by  the 
operation  of  some  external  cause.  A  blow  of  the  hand  makes  no 
impression  on  a  stone-wall ;  but  a  battery  of  cannon  may.  The 
moon  raises  a  tide  in  the  ocean,  but  makes  no  perceptible  impres- 
sion on  rivers  and  lakes. 

38.  When  we  speak  of  making  an  impression  on  the 
mind,  the  word  is  carried  still  farther  from  its  literal  mean- 
ing ;  use,  however,  which,  as  we  have  observed  above,  is  the 
arbiter  of  language,  authorizes  this  application  of  it;   as 
when  we  say  that  admonition  and  reproof  make  little  im- 
pression on  those  who  are  confirmed  in  bad  habits.     The 
same  discourse  delivered  in  one  way  makes  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  the  hearers ;  delivered  in  another  way  it  makes  no 
impression  at  all. 

Illus.  1.  Now,  in  such  examples,  an  impression  made  on  the  mind 
always  implies  some  change  of  purpose  or  will  ;  some  new  habit 
produced,  or  some  former  habit  weakened  ;  some  passion  raised  or 
allayed.  When  such  changes  are  produced  by  persuasion,  exam- 
ple, or  any  external  cause,  we  say  that  such  causes  make  an  im- 
pression upon  the  mind.  But  when  things  are  seen,  or  heard,  or 
apprehended,  without  producing  any  passion,  or  emotion,  we  say 
that  they  make  no  impression. 

2.  In  the  most  extensive  sense,  an  impression  is  a  change  produ- 
ced in  some  passive  subject  by  the  operation  of  an  external  cause. 
If  we  suppose  an  active  being  to  produce  any  change  in  itself  by 
its  own  active  power,  this  is  never  called  an  impression.  It  is  the  act 
or  operation  of  the  being  itself,  not  an  impression  upon  it.     From 
'.his  it  appears,  that  to  give  the  name  of  an  impression  to  any  effect 
produced  in  the  mind,  is  to  suppose  that  the  mind  does  not  act  at  all 
In  the  production  of  that  effect. 

3.  If  seeing,  hearing,  desiring,  willing,  be  operations  of  the  mind, 
they  cannot  be  impressions.     If  they  be  impressions,  they  cannot 
oe  operations  of  the  mind.     In  the  structure  of  all  languages,  they 
are  considered  as  acts  or  operations  of  the  mind  itself,  and  the  names 
given  them  imply  this.     To  call  them  impressions,  therefore,  is  to 
trespass  against  the  structure^  not  of  a  particular  language  only,  but 
<>f  all  languages, 


26  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i* 

Carol.  The  term  impression,  consequently,  in  the  department  of 
logic  and  mental  science,  merely  denotes  whatever  produces  that 
change  in  the  mind  which  is  necessary  to  perceive  an  object,  or  to 
form  a  thought. 

39.  Sensation  is  a  name  given  by  philosophers  to  an  act 
of  mind,  which  maybe  distinguished  from  all  others  by  this, 
that  it  hath  no  object  distinct  from  the  object  itself. 

Mhis.  Pain  of  every  kind  is  an  uneasy  sensation.  When  I  am 
pained,  I  cannot  say,  that  the  pain  I  feel  is  one  thing,  and  that  my 
feeling  it  is  another  thing.  They  are  one  and  the  same  thing,  and 
cannot  be  disjoined  even  in  imagination.  Pain,  when  it  is  not  felt, 
has  no  existence.  It  can  be  neither  greater  nor  less  in  degree,  or 
duration,  nor  any  thing  else  in  kind,  than  it  is  felt  to  be.  It  cannot 
exist  by  itself,  nor  in  any  subject,  but  in  a  sentient  being.  No  qual- 
ity of  any  inanimate  and  insentient  being  can  have  the  least  resem- 
blance to  it. 

40.  What  we  have  said  of  pain  may  be  applied  to  every 
other  sensation ;  some  of  them  are  agreeable,  others  uneasy, 
in  various  degrees. 

Obs.  These  being  objects  of  desire  or  aversion,  have  some  atten- 
tion given  to  them ;  but  many  are  indifferent,  and  so  little  attended 
to,  that  they  have  no  name  in  any  language. 

41.  Most  operations  of  the  mind,  that  have  names  in  com- 
mon language,  are  complex  in  their  nature,  and  made  up  of 
various  ingredients,  or  more  simple  acts;   which,  though 
conjoined  in  our  constitutions,  must  be  disjoined  by  abstrac- 
tion, in  order  to  our  having  a  distinct  and  scientific  notion 
of  the  complex  operation.     In  such  operations,  sensation, 
for  the  most  part,  makes  an  ingredient.     Those  who  do  not 
attend  to  the  complex  nature  of  such  operations,  are  apt  to 
resolve  them  into  some  one  of  the  simple  acts  of  which  they 
are  compounded,  overlooking  others. 

Obs.  Nothing,  therefore,  is  of  so  much  importance  as  to  have  a 
distinct  notion  of  that  simple  act  of  the  mind  which  we  call  sensa- 
tion, without  puzzling  ourselves  about  the  particular  nature  offche 
change  effected  in  the  organ,  in  the  nerves,  or  in  the  brain,  by  the 
secondary  qualities  of  matter,  in  tha  process  which  constitutes  sen- 
sation, and  of  which  we  can  have  no  clearer  knowledge  than  if  we 
ourselves  were  not  the  subjects  of  that  mysterious  operation. 

42.  The  word  feeling  hath  two  meanings. 

First,  It  signifies  the  perceptions  which  we  have  of  ex- 
ternal objects,  by  the  sense  of  touch.  When  we  speak  of 
feeling  a  body  to  be  hard  or  soft,  rough  or  smooth,  hot  or 
cold  ;  to  feel  these  things,  is  to  perceive  them  by  touch. 

Secondly,  The  word  feeling  is  used  to  signify  the  same 
thing  as  sensation,  which  we  have  just  explained;  andir. 


CHAP.  ii.  Principles  taken  for  granted. 

this  sense,  it  has  no  object;  the  feeling  and  the  thing  felt, 
are  one  and  the  same. 

Obs.  Perhaps  betwixt  feeling1,  taken  in  this  last  sense,  and  sensa- 
tion, there  may  be  this  small  difference^  that  sensation  is  most  com- 
monly used  to  signify  those  feelings  which  we  have  by  our  external 
senses  and  bodily  appetites,  and  all  our  bodily  pains  and  pleasures. 
But  there  are  feelings  of  a  nobler  nature  accompanying-  our  affec- 
tions, our  moral  judgments,  and  our  determinations  in  matters  of 
taste,  to  which  the  word  sensation  is  less  properly  applied. 

Note.  Other  words  that  need  explication,  shall  be  explained  as 
they  occur. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PRINCIPLES  TAKEN  FOR  GRANTED. 

43.  A  GENERAL  rule,  when  applied  to  regulate  particu- 
lars, is  termed  a  principle;  and  explanations  or  injunctions 
from  principle  are  termed  theory,  or  system.     The  particu- 
lars to  be  explained  are  termed  phenomena. 

Obs.  As  there  are  words  common  to  philosophers  and  to  the  un- 
learned, which  need  no  explication ;  so  there  are  principles  com- 
mon to  both  which  need  no  proof,  and  whichklo  not  admit  of  di- 
rect proof. 

44.  Such  principles,  when  we  have  occasion  to  use  them 
in  science,  are  called  axioms. 

lUus.  Thus,  mathematicians,  before  they  attempt  to  prore  any 
proposition  in  mathematics,  lay  down  certain  axioms  or  common  prin- 
ciples, upon  which  they  build  their  reasonings.  And  although  those 
axioms  be  truths  which  every  man  knew  before  ;  such  as,  "  That  the 
whole  is  greater  than  a  part" — '*  that  equal  quantities  added  to 
equal  quantities  make  equal  sums  ;"  yet,  when  we  see  nothing  as- 
sumed in  the  proof  of  mathematical  propositions,  but  such  self-evi- 
dent axioms,  the  propositions  appear  more  certain,  and  leave  n® 
room  for  doubt  or  dispute. 

45.  In  every  other  science,  as  well  as  in  mathematics,  it 
will  be  found  that  there  are  a  few  common  principles,  upon 
which  all  the  reasonings  in  that  science  are  grounded,  and 
into  which  they  may  be  resolved.     If  these  principles  were 
pointed  out  arid  explained,  we  should  be  better  able  to  judge 
what  stress  may  be  laid  upon  the  conclusions  in  that  science. 
If  the  principles  be  certain,  the  conclusions  justly  drawn 
from  them  must  be  certain.     If  the  principles  be  only  pro- 

"bable,  the  conclusions  can  only  be  probable.     If  the  princi- 


£  8  *d  Grammar  of  Logi  e,  u  o  o  K  i  . 

pies  be  false,  dubious,  or  obscure,  the  superstructure  that  is 
built  upon  them  must  partake  of  the  weakness  of  the  foun- 
dation. 

Illus.  Thus,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  by  laying;  down  the  common  prin- 
ciples or  axioms,  on  which  the  reasonings  in  natural  philosophy  arc 
built,  laid  a  solid  foundation  in  that  science,  and  reared  on'it  a  no- 
ble superstructure,  about  which  there  is  no  more  dispute  or  contro- 
versy among"  men  of  knowledge,  than  there  is  about  the  conclu- 
sions of  mathematics.  Yet  are  the  first  principles  of  natural  philos- 
ophy of  a  nature  quite  different  from  mathematical  axioms.  They 
have  not  the  same  kind  of  evidence,  nor  are  they  necessary  truths, 
as  mathematical  axioms  are.  They  are  such  as  these,  "  that  simi- 
lar effects  proceed  from  the  same  or  similar  causes  ;  that  we  ought 
to  admit  of  no  other  causes  of  natural  effects,  but  such  as  are  true, 
and  sufficient  to  account  for  the  effects."  These  are  principles, 
which,  though  they  have  not  the  same  kind  of  evidence  that  math- 
ematical axioms  have  ;  yet  have  such  evidence,  that  every  man  of 
common  understanding  readily  assents  to  them,  and  finds  it  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  conduct  his  actions  and  opinions  by  them,  in  the 
ordinary  affairs  of  life. 

46.  In  like  manner,  there  are  some  things  which  we 
shall  take  for  granted,  as  first  principles  in  treating  of  the 
mind  and  its  faculties  ;  or  of  a  rational  and  useful  logic. 

47.  The  evidence  of  first  principles  is  not  demonstrative 
but  intuitive.   They  require  not  proof,  but  to  be  placed  in  a 
proper  point  of  view. 

48.  First,  then,  we  shall  take  it  for  granted,  that  man 
thinks,  remembers,  reasons,  and,  in  general,  that  he  really 
performs  all  those  operations  of  mind,  of  which  he  is  con- 
scious. 


The  operations  of  our  minds  are  attended  with  conscious- 
ness ;  and  this  consciousness  is  the  evidence,  the  only  evidence 
which  we  have,  or  can  have,  of  their  existence.  Every  man  finds 
himself  under  a  necessity  of  believing  what  consciousness  testifies, 
and  every  thing  that  hath  this  testimony  is  to  be  taken  as  a  first 
principle. 

49.  As  by  consciousness  we  know  certainly  the  existence 
of  our  present  thoughts  and  passions  ;  so  we  know  the  past 
by  remembrance.     And  when  they  are  recent,  and  the  re- 
membrance of  them  fresh,  the  knowledge  of  them,  from  such 
distinct  remembrance,  is,  in  its  certainty  and  evidence,  next 
to  that  of  consciousness. 

50.  When  we  make  our  own  thoughts  and  passions,  and 
the  various  operations  of  our  minds  the  objects  of  our  atten- 
tion, either  while  they  are  present,  or  when  they  are  recenf 
and  fresh  in  our  memory,  this  act  of  the  mind  is.  called  rr 
flection. 


Principles  taken  for  granted.  f;0 

CoroL  We  take  it  for  granted,  therefore,  that  by  attentive  reflec- 
tion, a  man  may  have  a  clear  and  certain  knowedge  of  the  opera- 
*  ions  of  his  own  mind  ;  a  knowledge  no  less  clear  and  certain,  than 
that  which  he  has  of  an  external  object  when  it  is  set  before  his  eyes. 

51.  This  reflection  is  a  kind  of  intuition,  it  gives  a  like 
conviction  with  regard  to  internal  objects,  or  things  in  the 
mind,  as  the  faculty  of  seeing  gives  with  regard  to  the  ob- 
jects of  sight. 

CoroL  A  man  must,  therefore,  be  convinced  beyond  the  possibil- 
ity of  doubt,  of  every  thing-  with  regard  to  the  operations  of  his  own 
mind,  which  he  clearly  and  distinctly  discerns  by  attentive  reflection.. 

52.  We  shall  take  it  for  granted,  that  all  the  thoughts 
which  a  man  is  conscious  of,  or  remembers,  are  the  thoughts 
of  one  and  the  same  thinking  principle,  which  he  calls  him- 

or  his  mind. 

lllus.  1.  Every  man  has  an  immediate  and  irresistible  conviction, 
.illy  of  his  present  existence,  but  of  his  continued  existence  and 

far  back  as  lie  can  remember. 

2.  Every  man  of  a  sound  mind  feels  himself  unde;-  a  necessity  of 

ving  his  own  identity,  and  continued  existence.     The  couvic- 

'•i<m  of  this  is  immediate  and  irresistible  ;  and  if  he  should  lose  this 

:>uld  be  a  certain  proof  of  insanity,  which  is  not  to 

be  remedied  by  rcas<>, 

53.  W<v  shall  take  it  for  granted,  that  there  are  some 

Inch  cannot  exist  by  themselves,  but  must  be  in 
-  to  which  they  belong,  as  qualities,  or  attri- 
butes. 

lllus.  Thus  motion  can,'  liing  that  is  moved. 

For,  to  suppose  that  there  can  be-  motion  while  every  thing-  5s  at  rest, 

.  and  palpable*  absurdity.     In  like  manner,  hardness  and 

veetness  and  bitterness,  :ire  tilings  which  cannot  exist  by 

elves.     They  are  qualities  of  some  thing  which  is  hard  or 

>-*-eet  or  bit.er.     That  thing,  whatever  it  be,  of  which  they  arc 

is  called  their  subject,  and  such  qualities  necessarily  sup 

a  subject. 

54.  Things  which  may  exist  by  themselves,  and  which 
do  not  jji;  e  existence  of  any  thing  else,  are  called 
substances  ;  and  with  relation  to  ilia  qualities  or  attributes 
that,  belong  to  them,  they  are  called  the  subjects  of  such 
qualities  or  attributes.     An<  v.-ctto  material  objects, 
we  give  the  name  of  body  to  that  which  is  the  subject  of 
these  qualities  or  attributes. 

55.  In  like  manner,  those  operations  of  which  a  man  is 
conscious,  sucii  as   thought,  reasoning,  desire,  necessarily 
suppose  something  that  thinks,  reasons,  and  desires.      We 

ive  the  name  of  mind  to  thought,  reason,  or  desir? : 


50  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i, 

but  to  that  being  which  thinks,  which  reasons,  and  which 
desires. 

56.  That  every  act,  or  operation,  therefore,  supposes  an 
agent,  that  every  quality  supposes  a  subject,  are  things  which 
we  do  not  attempt  to  prove,  but  take  for  granted.     Every 
man  of  common  understanding  discerns  this  immediately, 
and  cannot  entertain  the  least  doubt  of  it. 

57.  In  all  languages,  we  find  certain  words  which,  by 
grammarians,  are  called  adjectives.      Such  words  denote 
attributes ;  and  every  adjective  must  have  a  substantive  to 
which  it  belongs,  because  every  attribute  must  have  a  sub- 
ject. 

58.  In  all  languages,  we  find  active  verbs,  which  denote 
some  action  or  operation:  and  it  is  a  fundamental  rule  in 
the  grammar  of  all  languages,  that  such  a  verb  supposes  a 
person,  that  is,  in  other  words,  every  action  must  have  an 
agent. 

Corol.  We  take  it,  therefore,  as  a  first  principle,  that  g'oodness,  wis- 
dom, and  virtue,  can  only  be  in  some  being  that  is  good,  wise,  and  vir- 
tuous ;  that  thinking  supposes  a  being  that  thinks,  and  that  every 
operation  of  which  we  are  conscious  supposes  an  agent  that  operates, 
which  we  call  mind. 

59.  We  take  it  for  granted,  that  in  most  operations  of  the 
mind,  there  must  be  an  object  distinct  from  the  operation 
itself. 

Him.  1.  I  cannot  see,  without  seeing  something.  To  see  with- 
out having  an  object  of  sight  is  absurd.  I  cannot  remember,  with- 
out remembering  something.  The  thing  remembered  is  past,  while 
the  remembrance  of  it  is  present ;  and  therefore  the  operation  and 
the  object  of  it  must  be  distinct  things. 

2.  1  remember  the  comet  of  1811.  Here  the  act  of  remember- 
ing is  present,  but  the  comet,  which  is  the  object  of  this  act,  is  ab- 
sent; whence  the  operation  and  tlie  object  of  that  operation  are 
distinct  things. 

CO.  We.ought  likewise  to  take  for  granted,  as  first  princi- 
ples, things- wherein  we  find  an  universal  agreement  among 
the  learned  and  unlearned,  in  the  different  ages  of  the 
world. 

Obs.  A  consent  of  ages  and  nations,  of  the  learned  and  unlearn- 
ed, ought,  at  least,  to  have  great  authority,  unices  we  can  shew 
some  prejudice,  as  universal  as  that  consent  is,  which  might  be  its 
cause.  Truth  is  one,  but  error  is  infinite. 

Corol.  An  universal  consent  in  things  gives  the  greatest  presump- 
tion that  can  be,  that  such  a  consent  is  the  natural  result  of  the  hu- 
man faculties,  and  must  have  great  authority  with  every  sober  mind 
that  loves  truth. 


CHAP.  ii.  Principks  taken  for  granted.  31 

61.  Though  it  may  be  impossible  to  collect  the  opinions 
of  all  men  upon  all  points,  there  are  many  cases  in  which  it 
is  otherwise  ;  so  that  the  foregoing  postulate  will  still  hold 
good. 

Obs.  Who  can  doubt,  for  instance,  whether  mankind  have,  in  all 
ages,  believed  the  existence  of  a  material  world,  and  that  those 
things  which  we  see  and  handle,  are  real  and  not  mere  illusions  and 
apparitions  ?  Who  can  doubt  whether  mankind  have  universally 
believed  that  very  thing1  that  begins  to  exist,  must  have  a  cause"? 
Who  can  doubt,  whether  mankind  have  been  universally  persuaded 
that  there  is  a  right  and  a  wrong  in  human  conduct  ?  Some  things, 
which  in  certain  circumstance,  they  ought  to  do,  and  other  things 
which  they  ought  not  to  do  ? 

CoroL  The  universality  of  these  opinions,  and  of  many  such  that 
might  be  named,  is  sufficiently  evident,  from  the  whole  tenor  of 
men's  conduct,  as  far  as  our  acquaintance  reaches,  and  from  the 
records  of  historians  of  all  nations,  transmitted  to  us  from  the  remo- 


62.  There  are  other  opinions  that  appear  to  be  univer- 
sal, from  what  is  common  in  the  structure  of  all  languages, 
ancient  and  modern,  polished  and  barbarous.     Language  is 
the  express  image  and  picture  of  human  thoughts  ;  and  from 
the  picture,  we  may  often  draw  certain  conclusions  with  re- 
gard to  the  original. 

Illus.  1.  We  find  in  all  languages  the  same  parts  of  speecB, 
r.oun,  substantive  and  adjective  ;  verbs  active  and  passive,  varied 
according  to  the  tenses  of  past,  present,  and  future  ;  we  find  ad- 
verbs, prepositions,  and  conjunctions.  There  are  general  rules  of 
syntax  common  to  all  languages.  This  uniformity  in  the  structure 
of  language,  shews  a  certain  degree  of  uniformity  in  those  notions 
upon  which  the  structure  of  language  is  founded. 

2.  We  find  in  the  structure  of  all  languages,  the  distinction  of 
acting  and  being  acted  upon,  the  distinction  of  action  and  agent,  of 
quality  and  subject,  and  many  others  of  the  like  kind  ;  which 
shews  that  these  distinctions  are  founded  in  the  universal  sense  of 
mankind. 

CoroL  There  are  many  occasions  on  which  it  is  necessary  to*  ar- 
gue from  the  sense  of  mankind  expressed  in  the  structure  of  lan- 
guage ;  and  therefore  it  was  proper  at  the  threshold  to  take  notice 
of  the  force  of  arguments  drawn  from  this  topic. 

63.  We  shall  also  take  for  granted,  as  first  principles, 
such  facts  as  are  attested  to  the  conviction  of  all  sober  men, 
either  by  their  senses,  by  memory,  or  by  human  testimony. 

Obs.  1.  For,  though  scepticism  may  endeavour  to  discredit  the 
testimony  of  the  senses,  we  never  heard  of  any  sceptic  who  struck 
his  head  against  a  post,  or  stept  into  a  kennel  because  he  did  not 
believe  his  eyes. 

2.  Let  us,  however,  be  cautious,  that  we  do  not  adopt  opinions 


32  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  r. 

as  first  principles,  which  are  not  entitled  to  that  character.  Let  us 
deal  with  every  thing-  offered  as  a  first  principle,  as  an  upright 
judge  does  with  a  witness  who  has  a  fair  character.  He  pays  a  re- 
gard to  the  testimony  of  such  witness,  while  his  character  is  unim- 
peached  ;  but  if  it  can  be  shewn  that  he  is  suborned,  or  that  he  is 
influenced  by  malice  or  partial  favour,  his  testimony  loses  all  cred- 
it, and  is  justly  rejected. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Of  HYPOTHESES. 

64.  EVERY  branch  of  human  knowledge  hath  its  proper 
principles,  its  proper  foundation  and  method  of  reasoning  ; 
and  if  we  endeavour  to  build  upon  any  other  foundation,  the 
fabric  we  raise  will  never  stand  firm. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  the  historian  builds  upon  testimony,  and  rarely 
indulges  conjecture. 

2.  The  antiquary  mixes  conjecture  with  testimony  ;  and  the  for-' 
mer  often  makes  the  larger  ingredient. 

3.  The  mathematician  pays  not  the  least  regard  either  to  testi- 
mony or  conjecture,  but  deduces  every  thing,  by  demonstrative  rea- 
soning, from  his  definitions  and  axioms. 

Corol.  Whatever,  therefore,  is  built  upon  conjecture,  is  improp- 
erly called  science ;  for  though  conjecture  may  beget  opinion,  it 
cannot  produce  knowledge.  Natural  philosophy  must  be  built  up- 
on the  laws  of  the  material  system,  discovered  by  observation  and 
experiment. 

65.  When  men  began  to  philosophize,  or  to  carry  their 
thoughts  beyond  the  objects  of  sense,  and  to  inquire  into 
the  causes  of  things,  their  ignorance  of  a  scientific  way  of 
proceeding  in  such  philosophical  disquisitions,  gave  birth  to 
conjecture. 

Illus.  Accordingly  we  find  that  the  most  ancient  systems,  in  eve- 
ry branch  of  philosophy,  were  nothing  but  the  conjectures  of  men 
famous  for  their  wisdom,  whose  fame  gave  authority  to  their  opin- 
ions. 

Example.  Thus,  in  early  ages,  wise  men  conjectured  that  the 
earth  was  a  vast  plain,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  boundle<-. 
ocean ;  that  from  this  ocean,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  emerged  at 
their  rising,  and  plunged  into  it  again  at  their  setting. 

66.  With,  regard  to  the  mind,  men  in  their  rudest  state 
are  apt  to  conjecture  that  the  principle  of  life  in  man  is  his 
breath  ;  because  the  most  obvious  distinction  between  a  liv 


CHAP.  in.  Of  Hypotheses.  33 

ing  and  a  dead  man  is,  that  the  one  breathes,  and  the  other 
does  not. 

Obs.  To  this  it  is  owing*  that,  in  ancient  languages,  the  word 
which  denotes  the  soul,  is  that  which  properly  signifies  breath^  or  air. 

67.  As  men  advance  in  knowledge,  their  first  conjectures 
appear  silly  and  childish,  and  give  place  to  others  which 
agree  better  with  later  observations  and  discoveries.     Thus, 
one  system  of  philosophy  succeeds  another,  without  any 
claim  to  superior  merit,  but  this,  that  it  is  a  more  ingenious 
system  of  conjectures,  and  accounts  better  for  common  ap- 
pearances. 

Illus.  Des  Cartes  thus  conjectured,  that  the  heavenly  bodies  are 
carried  round  by  a  vortex  or  whirlpool  of  subtile  matter,  just  as 
straws  and  chaff  are  carried  round  in  a  tub  of  water.  He  conjec- 
tured also,  that  the  soul  is  seated  in  a  small  gland  in  the  brain,  cal- 
led the  pineal  gland :  that  there,  as  in  her  presence  chamber,  she 
receives  intelligence  of  every  thing  that  affects  the  senses,  by 
means  of  a  subtile  fluid  contained  in  the  nerves,  and  billed  animal 
spirits  ;  and  that  she  dispatches  these  animal  spirits  as  her  messen- 
gers, to  put  in  motion  the  several  muscles  of  the  body,  as  there  is 
occasion.  By  such  conjectures  as  these  Des  Cartes  could  account 
for  every  phenomenon  in  nature,  in  such  a  plausible  manner,  as 
gave  satisfaction  to  a  great  part  of  the  learned  world  for  mere  than 
half  a  century. 

68.  Such  conjectures,  in  phildsopMdil  matters,  have  com- 
monly received  the  name  of  hypotheses,  or  theories. 

Obs.  1.  And  the  invention  of  any  hypothesis  which,  founded  on 
some  slight  probabilities,  accounts  for  many  appearances  of  nature, 
has  been  considered  as  the  highest  attainment  of  a  philosopher. 
If  the  hypothesis  hangs  well  together,  is  embellished  by  a  lively 
imagination,  and  serves  to  account  for  common  appearances,  it  is 
considered  by  many  as  having  all  the  qualities  that  should  recom- 
mend it  to  our  belief;  and  all  that  ought  to  be  required  in  a  phi 
losophical  system 

2.  There  is  such  proneness  in  men  of  genius  to  invent  hypothe- 
ses, and  in  others  to  acquiesce  in  them,  as  the  utmost  that  the  hu- 
man faculties  can  attain  in  philosophy,  that  it  is  of  the  last  conse- 
quence to  the  progress  of  real  knowledge,  that  men  should  have  u 
clear  and  distinct  understanding  of  the  nature  of  hypotheses  in  phi- 
losophy, and  of  the  regard  that  is  due  to  them. 

69.  Although  some  conjectures  may  have  a  considerable 
degree  of  probability,  yet  it  is  evidently  in  the  nature  of 
conjecture  to  be  uncertain.     In  every  cas"e,  the  assent  ou«;ht 
to  be  proportioned  to  the  evidence;"  for  to  believe  firmly 
what  has  but  a  small  degree  of  probability,  is  a  man. 
abuse  of  our  understanding. 

o 

Obs.  If  a  child  were  to  conjecture  how  an  army  is  to  be  for: 
,1* 


34  c#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i» 

In  the  clay  of  battle,  how  a  city  is  to  be  fortified,  or  a  state  govern- 
ed ;  what  chance  has  he  to  guess  rig-lit  ?  As  little  chance  would  a 
thousand  of  the  greatest  wits  whom  the  world  ever  produced,  havcv 
without  any  previous  knowledge  in  anatomy,  to  contrive  how  and 
by  what  internal  organs,  the  various  functions  of  the  human  body 
are  earned  on  ;  how  the  blood  is  made  to  circulate,  and  the  limbs  to 
move. 

70.  Of  all  the  discoveries  that  have  been  made  concerning 
the  inward  structure  of  the  human  body,  never  one  was 
made  by  conjecture. 

Hlus.  Accurate  observations  of  anatomists  have  brought  to  light 
innumerable  artifices  of  nature  in  the  contrivance  of  this  machine 
of  the  human  body,  which  we  cannot  but  admire  as  excellently 
adapted  to  their  several  purposes.  But  the  most  sagacious  phisi 
ologist  never  dreamed  of  them  till  they  were  discovered.  On  the 
other  hand,  innumerable  conjectures,  formed  in  different  ages,  with 
regard  to  the  structure  of  the  body,  have  been  confuted  by  obser- 
vation, and^ione  ever  confirmed.  N 

71.  What  we  have  said  of  the  internal  structure  of  the 
human  body,  may  be  said,  with  justice,  of  every  other  part 
of  the  works  of  God,  wherein  any  real  discovery  has  been 
made. 

Obs.  Such  discoveries  have  always  been  made  by  patient  observa- 
tion, by  accurate  experiments,  or  by  conclusions  drawn  by  strict 
1  resaoning  from  observations  and  experiments  ;  and  such  discoveries 
have  always  tended  to  refute,  but  not  to  confirm,  the  theories  and 
hyhotheses  which  ingenious  men  had  invented. 

Illus.  1.  The  finest  productions  of  human  art  are  immense]}  short 
cf the  meanest  productions  of  nature.  The  nicest  plumasier  cannot 
make  a  feather.  Nor  could  any  society  of  chemists  and  meteorolo- 
gists cover  the  hills  with  mists,  and  the  face  of  the  sky  with  clouds. 
Human  workmanship  will  never  bear  a  comparison  with  the  work- 
manship of  nature. 

2.  The  Indian  phiosopher  being  at  a  loss  to  know  how  the  Earth 
was  supported,  invented  the  hypotheses  of  a  huge  elephant,  on 
whose  back  it  rested  :  and  the  elephant  he  supposed  to  stand  on  a, 
huge  tortoise.  This  hypothesis,  how  ridiculous  soever  it  appears  to 
us,  might  seem  very  reasonable  to  other  Indians,  who  knew  no  more 
of  it  than  the  inventor,  and  never  inquired,  What  did  the  tortoise 
stand  on  ? 

72.  Let  us,  therefore,  lay  down  this  as  a  fundamental 
principle  in  our  inquiries  in  to  the  structure  of  the  mind,  and 
its  operations,  that  no  regard  is  due  to  the  conjectures  or  hy- 
potheses of  philosophers,  how  ancient  soever,  however  gen- 
erally received.      Let  us  accustom  ourselves  to  try  every 
opinion  by  the  touchstone  of  fact  arid  experience.     "What 
van  fairlv  be  deduced  from  facts  dulv  observed,  or  sufficient- 


i  HAP.  iv.  Of  Analogy.  35 

\y  attested,  is  genuine  and  pure;  it  is  the  voice  of  Nature, 
and  no  fiction  of  humar.  imagination. 

73.  The  first  rule  of  philosophizing,  laid  down  by  the 
great  Newton,  is  this  : — "  No  more  causes,  nor  any  other 
causes  of  natural  effects,  ought  to  be  admitted,  but  such  as 
are  both  true,  and  are  sufficient  for  explaining  their  appear- 
ances." This  is  the  golden  rule ;  it  is  the  true  and  proper 
test,  whereby  what  is  sound  and  solid  in  philosophy  may  be 
distinguished  from  what  is  hollow  and  vain. 

Corol.  If  a  philosopher,  therefore,  pretend  to  show  us  the  cause 
of  any  natural  effect,  whether  relating1  to  matter  or  mind ;  let  us  first 
consider  whether  there  be  sufficient  evidence  that  the  cause  he  as- 
signs does  really  exist.  If  there  be  not,  reject  it  with  disdain  as  a 
fiction  which  ought  to  have  no  place  in  genuine  philosophy.  If  the 
cause  assigned  really  exist,  consider,  in  the  ne'xt  place,  whether  the 
•Affect  it  is  brought  to  explain  necessarily  follows  from  it.  Unless 
ve  these  two  conditons,  it  is  good  for  nothing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  ANALOGY. 

74.  IT  is  natural  to  men  to  judge  of  things  less  known,  by 
some  similitude  which  they  observe,  or  which  they  think 
they  observe,  between  them  and  things  more  familiar  or  bet- 
ter known.  This  method  of  judging  is  callerl  Analogy  « 
and  in  many  cases  w,e  have  no  better  way  of  judging.  And 
where  the  things  compared  have  really  a  great  similitude  in 
their  nature,  when  there  is  reason  to  think  that  they  are  sub- 
ject to  the  same  laws,  there  may  be  considerable  degrees  oi 
probability  in  conclusions  drawn  from  analogy. 

Ittus.  Thus  we  may  observe  a  very  great  similitude  between  this 
Earth  which  we  inhabit,  and  the  other  planets,  Herschel,  Saturn,  Ju- 
piter, Mars,  Venus,  and  Mercury.  They  all  revolve  round  the  Sun, 
as-  the  Earth  does,  although  at  different  distances  and  in  different 
periods  of  time.  They  all  borrow  their  light  from  the  Sun,  as  the 
Earth  does.  They  revolve  round  their  axes  like  the  Earth  round 
her  axis,  and,  by  that  means,  must  have  a  regular  succession  of  day 
and  night.  Some  of  them  have  moons,  which  serve  to  give  them 
light  in  the  absence  of  the  Sun,  as  our  Moon  does  to  us.  They 
are  all,  in  their  motions,  subject  to  the  same  law  of  gravitation,  as 
the  Earth  is.  From  all  this  similitude,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  think, 
that  those  planets  may,  like  our  Earth,  be  the  habitation  of  various 
orders  of  living  creatures  ;  nay,  of  sentient  natures.  There  is  some 
probability  in  this  conclusion  from  analogy, 


36  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i. 

75.  In  medicine,  physicians  must,  for  the  most  part,  be 
directed  in  their  prescriptions  by  analogy. 

Illus.  The  constitution  of  one  human  body  is  so  like  to  that  of 
another,  that  it  is  reasonable  to  think,  that  what  is  the  cause 
of  health  or  sickness  to  one,  may  have  the  same  effect  upon  anoth- 
er. And  this  is  generally  found  true,  though  not  without  some  ex- 
ceptions. 

76.  In  politics  we  reason,  for  the  most  part,  from  analogy. 
The  constitution  of  human  nature  is  similar  in  different  so- 
cieties, or  commonwealths  ;   hence  we  conclude,  that  the 
causes  of  peace  and  war,  of  tranquillity  and  sedition,  of  rich- 
es and  poverty,  of  improvement  and  degeneracy,  are  much 
the  same  in  all. 

Corol.  Analogical  reasoning,  therefore,  is  not  in  all  cases  to  be 
rejected.  It  may  afford  a  greater  or  a  less  degree  of  probability, 
according  as  the  things  compared  are  more  or  less  similar  in  their 
nature.  But  it  ought  to  be  observed,  that,  as  this  kind  of  reason- 
ing can  afford  only  probable  evidence  at  best ;  so,  unless  great 
caution  be  used,  we  are  apt  to  be  led  into  error  by  it.  For  we  are 
naturally  disposed  to  conceive  a  greater  similitude  between  things 
than  there  really  is. 

77.  To  give  an  instance  of  this.     Anatomists,  in  ancient 
times,  seldom  dissected  human  bodies ;  but  very  often  the 
bodies  of  those  quadrupeds  whose  internal  structure  v/a? 
thought  to  approach  nearest  to  that  of  the  human  body 
Modern  anatomists,  by  the  actual  dissection  of  human  bodies, 
have  discovered  many  mistakes  into  which  the  ancients  Were 
led,  by  their  conceiving  a  greater  similitude  between  the 
structure  of  men  and  of  some  beast,  than  there  is  in  reality 

Corol.  By  this,  and  many  other  instances  that  might  be  given,  it 
appears,  that  conclusions  built  on  analogy  stand  on  a  slippery 
foundation  ;  and  that  we  ought  never  to  rest  upon  evidence  of  this 
kind,  when  we  can  have  more  direct  proof. 

78.  We  form  an  early  acquaintance,  by  means  of  our 
senses,  with  material  things,  and  are  bred  up  in  a  constant 
familiarity  with  them.     Hence,  we  are  apt  to  measure  all 
things  by  them  ;  and  to  ascribe  to  things  most  remote  from 
matter,  the  qualities  that  belong  to  material  things. 

Corol.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  mankind  have,  in  all  ages,  been  so 
prone  to  conceive  the  mind  itself  to  be  some  subtile  kind  of 
matter:  that  they  have  been  disposed  to  ascribe  human  figure  and 
human  organs  not  only  to  angels,  but  even  to  the  Deity  ! 

79.  We  are  conscious  of  the  operations  of  our  own  minds, 
when  they  are  exerted  ;  we  are  even  capable  of  attending  to 
them,  so  as  to  form  a  distinct  notion  of  them,  but  this  is  so 


CHAP.  iv.  Of  Analogy. 

difficult  a  work  to  men,  whose  attention  is  constantly  solici- 
ted by  external  objects,  that  we  give  them  names  from  things 
that  are  familiar,  and  which  are  conceived  to  have  some  sim- 
ilitude to  those  operations ;  and  the  notions  we  form  of  them 
are  no  less  analogical  than  the  names  we  give  them. 

80.  Almost  all  the  words,  by  which  we  express  the  ope- 
rations of  the  mind,  are  borrowed  from  material  objects. 

fllus.  To  understand,  to  conceive,  to  imagine,  to  comprehend,  to  de- 
liberate, to  infer,  and  many  other  words,  are  of  this  kind  :  so  that 
the  very  language  of  mankind,  with  regard  to  the  operations  of 
the  mind,  is  analogical. 

81.  Because  bodies  are  affected  only  by  con  tact  and  pres- 
sure, we  are  apt  to  conceive  that  what  is  an  immediate  object 
of  thought,  and  affects  the  mind,  must  be  i»  contact  with  it, 
and  make  some  impression  on  it. 

82.  When  we  imagine  any  thing,  the  very  word  leads  us 
to  think  that  there  must  be  some  image  in  the  mind  of  the 
thing  conceived. 

Corel,  It  is  evident  that  these  notions  are  drawn  from  some  simili- 
tude conceived  between  body  and  mind,  and  between  the  proper- 
ties of  body  and  the  operations  of  mind. 

83.  When  a  man  is  urged  by  contrary  motives,  those  on 
one  hand  inciting  him  to  do  some  action,  those  on  the  other 
to  forbear  it ;  he  deliberates  about  it,  and  at  last  resolves  to 
doit,  or  not  to  do  it.     The  contrary  motives  are  here  com- 
pared to  weights  in  the  opposite  scales  of  a  balance;  and 
there  is  not,  perhaps,  any  instance  that  can  be  named  of  a 
more  striking  analogy  between  body  and  mind. 

Corol.  Hence  the  phrases  weighing  motives,  deliberating  upor. 
lions,  and  the  like,  are  common  to  all  languages. 

84.  From  this  analogy,  some  philosophers  draw  very  im- 
portant conclusions.    They  say,  that  as  the  balance  cannot 
incline  to  one  side  more  than  the  other,  when  the  opposite* 
weights  are  equal,  so  a  man  cannot  possibly  determine  him 
self,  if  the  motives  on  both  hands  are  equal :  and  as  the  bai  - 
ance  must  necessarily  turn  to  that  side  which  has  most 
weight,  so  the  will  of  the  man  must  necessarily  be  determi- 
ned to  that  hand  where  the  motive  is  strongest. 

Obs.  And  on  this  foundation  some  of  the  schoolmen  maintained, 
that  if  a  hungry  ass  be  placed  between  two  bundles  of  hay  equally 
inviting-,  the  beast  must  stand  still  and  starve  to  death,  being  unable 
to  turn  to  either,  because  the  unfortunate  animal  has  equal  motives 
*<>  both  the  bundles. 

S5.  This  is  an  instance  of  that  analogical  reasoning  which 


33  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i, 

Dr.  Reid  conceives  ought  never  to  be  trusted ;  for  the  ana- 
logy between  a  balance  and  a  man  deliberating,  though  one 
of  the  strongest  that  can  be  found  between  matter  and 
mind,  is  too  weak  to  support  any  argument.  A  piece  of 
dead,  inactive  matter,  'and  an  active  and  intelligent  being, 
are  things  very  unlike ;  and  because  the  one  would  remain 
at  rest  in  a  certain  case,  it  does  not  follow  that  the  other 
would  be  inactive  in  a  case  somewhat  similar. 

Illus.  The  argument  is  no  better  than  this,  that,  because  a  dead 
animal  moves  only  as  it  is  pushed,  and,  if  pushed  with  equal  force 
in^  contrary  directions,  must  remain  at  rest ;  therefore,  the  same 
ihing  must  happen  to  a  living-  animal ;  for  surely  the  similitude  be- 
tween a  dead  animal  and  a  living-,  is  as  great  as" between  a  balance 
and  a  man. 

Corol.  The  conclusion  which  results  from  all  that  has  been  said  on 
analogy,  is,  that,  in  our  inquiries  concerning  the  mind  and  .its  oper- 
ations, we  ought  never  to  trust  to  reasonings  drawn  from  some  sup- 
posed similitude  of  body  to  mind ;  and  that  we  ought  to  be  very 
much  upon  our  guard,  that  we  be  not  imposed  upon  by  those  ana- 
logical terms  and  phrases  by  which  the  operations  of  the  mind  arc 
expressed  in  all  languages. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF    THE    PROPER    MEANS    OF    KNOWING    THE    OPERA- 
TIONS OF  OUR  OWN  MINDS. 

86.  SINCE  we  ought  to  pay  no  regard  to  hypotheses,  and 
to  be  very  suspicious  of  analogical  reasoning,  it  may  be 
asked,  from  what  sources  must  the  knowledge  of  the  mind, 
and  its  faculties,  be  drawn  ?  I  answer,  from  the  three  fol- 
lowing. The  first  is  attention  to  the  structure  of  language; 
because  the  language  of  mankind  is  expressive  of  their 
thoughts,  and  of- the  various  operations  of  their  minds. 

Jllus.  1.  Those  operations  which  are  common  to  mankind,  have 
various  forms  of  speech  corresponding  to  them  in  all  languages. 
These  various  forms  of  speech  are  the  signs  of  the  various  opera- 
tions of  the  understanding,  will,  and  passions ;  and  by  those  signs 
these  operations  are  expressed.  A  due  attention,  therefore,  to  the 
signs  may,  in  many  cases,  give  considerable  light  to  the  things  sig- 
nified by  them. 

2.  But  languages,  from  their  imperfections,  can  never  be  ade- 
quate to  all  the  varieties  of  human  thought.  There  may,  there 
fore,  be  things  really  distinct  in  their  nature,  and  capable  ot  being 
distinguished  by  the  human  mind,  which  are  not  distinguished  in 


CHAP.  v.     On  knowing  the  Operations  of  our  Mind.        39 

common  language.  There  may  also  be  peculiarities  in  a  particular 
language,  of  the  causes  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  and  from  which, 
therefore,  we  can  draw  no  conclusion.  But  whatever  we  find  com- 
mon to  all  languages  must  have  a  common  cause  ;  must  be  owing  to 
some  common  notion  or  sentiment  of  the  human  mind. 

87.  The  second  source  of  information  on  this  subject,  is  a 
due  attention  to  the  course  of  human  actions  and  conduct. 
The  actions  of  men  are  effects;  their  sentiments,  their  pas- 
sions, and  their  affections,  are  the  causes  of  those  effects  ; 
and  we  may,  in  many  cases,  form  a  judgment  of  the  cause, 
by  observing  the  effect. 

nhis.  1.  Tims,  the  behaviour  of  parents  towards  their  children 
gives  sufficient  evidence,  even  to  those  who  never  had  children,  that 
the  parental  affection  is  common  to  mankind.  The  general  conduct  of 
men,  too,  shows  us  what  are  the  natural  objects  of  their  esteem, 
their  admiration,  their  love,  their  approbation,  their  resentment,  and 
of  all  their  original  dispositions.  From  the  conduct  of  men  in  all 
nges,  it  is  likewise  obvious,  that  man  is,  by  his  nature,  a  social  ani- 
mal ;  that  he  delights  to  associate  with  his  species  ;  to  converse,  and 
to  exchange  good  offices  with  them. 

2.  Not  only  the  actions,  but  even  the  opinions  of  mankind,  may 
sometimes  give  light  into  the  frame  of  the  human  mind.  The  opin- 
ions of  men  may  be  considered  as  the  effects  of  their  intellectual 
powers,  as  their  actions  are  the  effects  of  their  active  principles. 
Even  the  prejudices  and  errors  of  mankind,  when  they  are  gene- 
ral, must  have  some  cause  no  less  general ;  the  discovery  of  which 
will  throw  some  light  upon  the  frame  of  the  human  understanding, 

38.  The  thir-^  and  main  source  of  information,  respect- 
ing the  mind  and  its  faculties,  is  accurate  and  attentive 
reflection  upon  the  operations  o£  our  own  mind.  The 
power  of  the  understanding  to  take  notice  of  its  own  ope- 
rations, to  attend  to  them,  and  examine  them  on  all  sides,  is 
the  power  of  reflection  ;  and  all  the  notions  we  have  of 
mind,  and  of  its  operations,  have  been  called  ideas  of  re- 
flection. 

lllus.  I.  The  term  reflection  implies  nothing  more  than  the  de- 
liberate and  mature  exercise  of  consciousness.  But,  to  acquire  a 
habit  of  reflection  upon  the  powers  of  our  own  minds,  or  of  the  de- 
liberate exercise  of  consciousness,  is  a  work  of  time  and  labour, 
even  to  those  who  begin  early,  and  whose  natural  talents  are  tolera- 
bly fitted  for  it.  This  is  the  last  of  the  powers  of  the  mind  that  un- 
folds itself,  and  though  many  persons  seem  incapable  of  acquiring 
it  in  any  considerable  degree,  it  may  be  greatly  improved  by  exer- 
cise. It  is  by  the  proper  employment  of  this'power  that  men  be- 
come fitted  to  discover  the  laws  by  which  their  own  thoughts  are 
regulated,  and  to  make  advances  in  the  science  of  intellectual  phi- 
losophy. 

2.  When  two  persons  are  speaking  to  us  at  once,  we  can  attend 
to  either  of  them  at  pleasure,  without  being  much  disturbed  by  the 


40  •'>  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  i, 

other.  If  we  attempt  to  listen  to  both,  we  can  understand  neither. 
The  fact  seems  to  be,  that  when  we  attend  constantly  to  one  of  the 
speakers,  the  words  spoken  by  the  other  make  no  impression  on 
the  mind,  in  consequence  of  our  not  attending*  to  them  ;  and  affect 
us  as  little  as  if  they  had  not  been  uttered.  This  power,  however, 
of  the  mind,  to  attend  to  either  speaker  at  pleasure,  supposes 
that  it  te,  at  one  and  the  same  "time,  conscious  of  the  sensations 
which  both  produce.  And  the  power  of  reflection,  m  like  manner, 
turns  the  mind  inward,  to  view  and  observe  its  own  actions  and  ope- 
rations ;  but  art  and  pains  are  requisite  to  set  it  at  a  distance,  as  it 
were,  from  itself,  and  make  it  an  object  of  its  own  scrutiny.  Yet 
art  and  pains  will  daily  diminish  this  difficulty,  and  thereby  enable 
us  to  thmk.  with  precision  and  accuracy  on  many  important  subjects, 
wherein  others  must  blindly  follow  a  leader. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  DIFFICULTY  OF  ATTENDING  TO  TOE  OPERA- 
TIONS OF  OUtt  OWN  MINDS,  INTERSPERSED  WITH 
OBSERVATIONS  WHICH  MAY  ASSIST  US  IN  OVERCOM- 
ING THIS  DIFFICULTY. 

89.  THE  difficulty  of  attending  to  our  mental  operations 
ought  to  be  well  understood,  and  justly  estimated,  by  those 

.  who  would  make  any  progress  in  the  art  of  logic ;  that  they 
may  neither,  on  the  one  hand,  expect  succ^s  without  labour 
and  application  of  thought ;  nor,  on  the  other,  be  discoura- 
ged, by  conceiving  that  the  obstacles  which  lie  in  the  way 
are  insuperable,  and  that  there  is  no  certainty  to  be  attained 
in  the  science  of  intellectual  philosophy. 

Obs.  The  following1  developement  of  the  causes  of  this  difficulty, 
and  the  effects  which  have  arisen  from  it,  will  enable  us  to  form  a 
irue  judgment  of  these  causes  and  effects. 

90.  The  number  and  quick  succession  of  the  operat; 

of  the  mind  make  it  difficult  to  give  due  attention  to  them. 
It  is  well  known,  that  if  a  number  of  objects  be  presented 
even  to  the  eye  (in  quick  succession)  they  are  confounded 
in  the  mind  and  imagination.  We  retain  a  confused  notion 
of  the  whole,  and  a  more  confused  one  of  the  several  parts, 
especially  if  they  are  objects  to  which  we  have  never  before 
given  particular  attention.  No  succession  can  be  more 
quick  than  that  of  thought.  The  mind  is  busy  while  we  are 
awake,  continually  passing  from  one  thought  and  one  ope- 
ration to  another.  The  scene  is  constantly  shifting.  You. 


VHAP.  vi.        Mention  to  our  Mental  Operations.  41 

will  be  instantly  sensible  of  this,  if  you  try  but  for  one 
minute  to  keep  the  same  thought  in  your  imagination  with- 
out addition  or  variation. 

lllus.  Think,  for  illustration,  on  Daniel  cast  into  the  lions'  r. 
and  you  will  find  it  impossible  to  keep  the  scene  of  your  imag 
:ion  fixed.  Other  objects  will  intrude  without  being-  called :  the 
machinations  of  his  enemies  to  get  a  royal  statute  established,  that 
whosoever  should  ask  a  petition  of  any  god  or  man  for  thirty  days, 
save  of  king  Darius,  should  be  cast  into  the  den  of  lions — the  immu- 
tability of  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians — the  king's  command 
— the  remarkable  presentiment  of  Darius,  that  the  God  whom  Dan- 
iel served  would  deliver  him — the  king's  disquietude  over  night— 
his  going  early  to  the  den  on  the  following  morning,  and  crying 
with  a  lamentable  voice,  O  Daniel,  servant  of  the  living  God,  is  thy 
God,  whom  thou  servest  continually,  able  to  deliver  thee  from  the 
lions  ? — the  reply  of  Daniel,  "  My  God  hath  sent  his  angel  and  hath 
:;hut  the  lions'  mouths,  that  they  have  not  hurt  me" — the  reason  o  I 
this,  "forasmuch  as  before  him  innocence  was  found  in  me" — the'ap- 
peal  to  Darius,  "  and  also  before  thee,  O  king,  have  I  done  no  hurt" 
— -the  punishment  of  the  men  who  accused  Daniel — of  their  wives 
und  children — and,  finally,  the  decree  of  the  king,  "  that  in  every 
dominion  of  my  kingdom  men  tremble  and  fear  before  the  God  of 
Daniel" — these,  all  these  objects  will  intrude,  without  being  called : 
and  all  you  can  do  is  to  reject  the  intruders  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  return  to  the  principal  object,  if  you  would  picture  to  yourseli 
only  Daniel  shut  up  in  the  lions'  den. 

91.  We  proceed   in  this  examination,  contrary  to  habits 
which  have  been  early  acquired,  and  confirmed  by  long, 
unvaried  practice.     From  infancy  we  are  accustomed  to 
attend  to  objects  of  sense,  and  to  them  only;  and,  when 
sensible  objects  have  acquired  such  strong  hold  of  the  at- 
tention by  confirmed  habit,  it  is  not  easy  to  dispossess  them. 
When  we  grow  up,  a  variety  of  external  objects  solicits  our 
attention,  excites  our  curiosity,  engages  our  affections,  or 
touches  our  passions ;  and  the  constant  round  of  employ- 
ment about  external  objects,  draws  off  the  mind  from  atten- 
ding to  itself. 

lllus.  Yet  here  much  may  be  done  by  experience,  and  nothing 
will  contribute  so  much  to  form  this  talent  of  reflection,  as  that  study 
which  has  the  operations  of  the  mind  for  its  object.  By  habituating 
us  to  reflect  on  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  it  enables  us  to 
retard,  .in  a  considerable  degree,  the  current  of  thought ;  to  arrest 
many  of  those  ideas,  which  would  otherwise  escape  our  notice  ;  and 
to  render  the  arguments,  which  we  would  employ  for  the  conviction 
of  others,  an  exact  transcript  of  those  trains  of  inquiry  and  re;* 
ing,  which  originally  led  us  to  form  our  opinions. 

92.  Mental  operations,  from  their  very  nature,  lead  the 
mind  to  sive  its  attention  to  some  other  object,    Our  sensa 

5 


42  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i. 

tions  are  natural  signs,  and  turn  our  attention  to  the  things 
signified  by  them.  In  perception,  memory,  judgment,  im- 
agination, and  reasoning,  there  is  an  object  distinct  from 
the  mind  itself;  and,  while  we  are  led  by  a  strong  impulse 
to  attend  to  the  object,  the  operation  escapes  our  notice. 
Our  passions/affections,  and  all  our  active  powers,  have,  in 
like  manner,  their  objects,  which  engross  our  attention,  and 
divert  it  from  the  powers  themselves. 

93,  When  the  mind  is  agitated  by  any  passion,  as  soon, 
as  we  turn  our  attention  from  the  object  of  the  passion  to 
the  passion  itself,  the  passion  subsides  or  vanishes,  and  by 
that  means  escapes  our  inquiry. 

lilus.  Thus,  when  a  man  is  angry,  he  is  conscious  of  his  passion, 
yet  he  attends  not  to  it,  but  to  an  external  object;  his  attention  is 
turned  to  the  person  who  offended  him,  and  the  circumstances  of  the 
offence,  while  the  passion  of  anger  is  not  in  the  least  the  object  of 
his  attention.  This,  indeed,  is  common  to  almost  every  operation  of 
the  mind.  When  it  is  exerted,  we  are  conscious  of  it ;  but  then 
we  do  not  attend  to  the  operation,  but  to  its  object.  When  the 
mind  is  drawn  off  from  the  object,  to  attend  to  its  own  operation, 
that  operation  ceases,  and  escapes  our  notice, 

94.  In  what  relates  to  the  operations  of  the  mind,  it  is 
not  enough  that  we  be  able  to  give  attention  to  them,  we 
must,  by  exercise  and  habit,  acquire  the  ability  of  distin- 
guishing accurately  their  minute  differences,  of  resolving 
and  analysing  complex  operations  into  their  simple  ingredi- 
ents, of  unfolding  the  ambiguity  of  words,  which  in  this 
science  is  greater  than  in  any  other,  and  of  giving  them  the 
accuracy  and   precision  of  mathematical   language.     For, 
doubtless,  the  same  precision  in  the  use  of  words ;  the  same 
cool  attention  to  the  minute  differences  of  things ;  the  same 
talent  for  abstraction  and  analysing,  which  fit  one  for  the 
study  of  mathematics,  are  no  less  necessary  in  the  science 
of  mind. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DIVISION  OF  THE  POWERS  OF  THE  MIND. 

95.  THE  powers  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  science  of 
intellectual  philosophy,  furnish  the  proper  basis  upon  which 
every  other  science  rests,  because  the  human  faculties  are 


CHAP.  vn.    Division  of  the  Powers  of  the  Mind.  43 

the  instruments  by  which  alone  invention  in  all  the  sciences 
can  be  accomplished.  But  the  powers  of  the  human  mind 
are  so  many  and  so  various,  and  so  connected  and  compli- 
cated, in  almost  all  its  operations,  that  the  most  genera! 
division,  which  is  also  the  most  common  of  them,  into  the 
powers  of  understanding,  and  those  of  the  will)  is  perhaps 
the  least  liable  to  objection. 

96.  The  UNDERSTANDING  comprehends  our  contempla- 
tive powers,  by  which  we  perceive  objects,  by  which  we 
conceive  or  remember  them,  by  which  we  analyse  or  com- 
pound them,  and  by  which  we  judge  and  reason  concerning 
them.     Under  the  WILL  we  arrange  our  active  powers,  and 
all  that  lead  to  action,  or  influence  the  mind  to  act;  such  as 
appetites,  passions,  affections. 

Illus.  1.  Although  this  general  division  may  be  of  use  in  order  to 
our  proceeding1  more  methodically  in  our  subject,  we  are  not  to 
understand  that,  in  those  operations  which  are  ascribed  to  the  un- 
derstanding, there  is  no  exertion  of  will,  or  activity,  or  that  the  un- 
derstanding is  not  employed  in  the  operations  of  the  will ;  for  we 
conceive  that  there  is  no  operation  of  the  understanding  wherein 
the  mind  is  not  also  active  in  some  degree. 

2.  We  have  some  command  over  our  thoughts,  and  can  attend  to 
this  or  to  that,  of  many  objects  which  present  themselves  to  our 
senses,  to  our  memory,  to  our  imagination.     We  can  survey  an  ob- 
ject on  this  side  or  that,  superficially  or  accurately,  for  a  longer 
or  a  shorter  time  ;  so  that  our  contemplative  powers  are  under  the 
guidance  and  direction  of  the  active  ;  and  the  former  never  pursue 
their  object  without  being  led  and  directed,  urged  or  restrained,  by 
the  latter.     And  because  the  understanding  is  always  more  or  less 
directed  by  the  will,  mankind  have  ascribed  some  degree  of  activity 
to  the  mind  in  its  intellectual  operations,  as  well  as  in  those  which 
belong  to  the  will,  and  have  expressed  them  by  active  verbs,  such 
as  seeing',  hearing,  judging1,  reasoning,  and  the  like. 

3.  And  as  the  mind  exerts  some  degree  of  activity  even  in  the  op- 
erations of  understanding,  so  it  is  certain,  that  there  can  be  no  act 
of  will  which  is  not  accompanied  with  some  act  of  understanding. 
The  will  must  have  an  object,  and  that  object  must  be  apprehended 
or  conceived  in  the  understanding. 

Corol.  It  is  therefore  to  be  remembered,  that  in  most,  if  not  all 
operations  of  the  mind,  both  faculties  concur ;  and  we  range  the  op- 
eration under  that  faculty  which  we  conceive  to  have  the  largest 
share  in  it. 

97.  In  conducting  our  analysis  of  the  intellectual  powers, 
it  is  proposed  to  adopt  the  following  arrangement : 

I.  To  treat  of  CONSCIOUSNESS,  or  that  faculty*  or  mode  oi 
thinking,  by  which  the  various  powers  of  our  minds  are 
make  known  to  us. 

II    SENSATION,  or  the  faculty  whereby  we  experience 


44  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i.' 

pleasing  or  painful  effects  from  various  objects,  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses. 

III.  PERCEPTION,  or  the  faculty  by  which  we  are  infor- 
med of  the  properties  of  external  objects,  in  consequence  of 
the  impressions  which  they  make  on  the  organs  of  sense. 

IV.  ATTENTION,  or  the  faculty  which  detains,  for  our  ex- 
amination, ideas  or  perceptions  in  the  mind,  and  excludes 
other  objects  that  solicit  its  notice. 

V.  CONCEPTION,  or  the  faculty  by  which  we  represent  to 
our  minds  the  objects  of  any  other  of  our  faculties  variously 
modified. 

VI.  ABSTRACTION,  or  the  faculty  by  which  we  analyse 
objects    of  consciousness,    sensation,  perception,  &c.  and 
contemplate  their  various  properties  apart  from  each  other. 

VII.  ASSOCIATION,  or  combination  of  ideas,  the  faculty 
by  which  we  connect  together  these  objects,  according  to  va- 
rious relations,  essential  or  accidental,  so  that  they  are  sug- 
gested to  us,  the  one  by  the  other. 

VIII.  MEMORY,  or  the  faculty  by  which  the  mind  has  a 
knowledge  of  what   it    had   formerly   perceived,    felt,    or 
thought. 

IX.  IMAGINATION,  or  the  faculty  which  makes  a  selection 
of  qualities  and  circumstances  from  a  variety  of  different 
objects,  and  by  combining  and  disposing  these,  forms  new 
creations  of  its  own. 

X.  JUDGMENT,  or  the  faculty  by  which  the  mind  comes 
to  determinations  concerning  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  any 
rhmg  that  is  affirmed  or  denied. 

XI.  REASON,  or  the  faculty  by  which  we  are  made  ac- 
quainted with  abstract  or  necessary  truth  ;  and  enabled  to 
discover  the  essential  relations  of  things. 

XII.  MORAL  PERCEPTION,  or  the  faculty  which  deter- 
mines the  choice  of  a  rational  being,  as  to  what  is  good  for 
uirp  upon  the  whole,  and  what  appears  to  be  duty. 


OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OF  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

98.  CONSCIOUSNESS  being  the  faculty  whereby  the  various 
powers  of  our  own  minds  are  made  known  to  us,  has  been 
already  noticed  among  the  first  principles  which  are  com 
mon  to  all  men,  (JirL  48).     In  an  investigation  of  the  prin 
ciples  of  human  thought,  this  faculty  stands  in  the  first  rank* 

Illus.  The  power  of  consciousness  appears  to  be  denied  to  the 
lower  animals  ;  nor  does  it  shew  itself  in  man  till  he  is  advanced  to- 
wards maturity.  The  wants  and  purposes  of  life  require  that  we 
should  form  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  those  objects  of  nature 
with  which  we  are  externally  connected,  and  which  are  the  chief 
sources  of  our  pleasures  and  pains.  Hence  our  senses,  or  percep- 
tive powers,  come  first  to  maturity ;  and  those  which  are  purely  in- 
tellectual, such  as  consciousness,  are  reserved  for  the  more  contem- 
plative period  of  life . 

99.  To  the  exercise  of  consciousness,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  all  men  are  indebted  for  the  conviction,  or  notiona 
of  personal  identity. 

fllus.  Every  man  holds  himself  to  be  absolutely  certain,  that  what- 
ever changes  his  body  may  undergo  in  this  life,  his  soul,  or  mind,  al- 
ways continues  one  and  the  same  ;  not  liable  to  that  alteration  and 
disunion  of  parts  to  which  all  corporeal  beings  appear  to  be  subject. 
Along  with  consciousness,  however,  we  must  conjoin  memory,  in  or- 
der to  give  a  rational  explanation  of  the  origin  of  this  conviction. 
"For  consciousness  reaches  only  to  the  present,  while  memory  a- 
lone  gives  a  knowledge  of  past  thoughts ;  and  it  is  by  comparing 
our  past  and  present  mental  operations  together,  that  we  form  a 
conviction  of  cur  personal,  or  rather,  intellectual  identity. 

Corol.  1 .  The  mind  or  soul  of  man  being  indivisible,  or  not  subject 
to  a  dissolution  of  parts,  and  annihilation  being  unknown  *n  the  order 
of  nature,  it  follows,  that  the  soul  is  physically  immortal. 

2.  The  properties  of  mind  having  no  analogy  to  those  of  matter, 
the  fact  at  death  is,  that  the  body  ceases  to  be  animated,  or  to  give 
signs  of  the  presence  of  mind ;  but  the  mind  being  active,  indivisible, 
and  indissoluble,  may  exist  apart. 

5* 


4G  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  21, 

3,  Hence,  every  question  relating1  to  a  future  state  must  be  solved 
from  the  nature  of  the  soul,  from  the  state  of  the  fact  at  death,  or 
from  the  principles  of  religion. 

100.  The  operation  of  consciousness  is  accompanied  with 
an  irresistible  belief  of  the  real  existence  of  those  objects  of 
which  it  gives  us  information. 

Illus.  The  belief  which  we  entertain  in  the  existence  of  our  own 
minds,  and  of  their  various  faculties,  rests  upon  this  evidence  alone  , 
and  it  is  by  means  of  it,  that  we  acquire  our  most  accurate  know- 
ledge of  the  laws  by  which  these  faculties  are  regulated.  Nor  can 
the  belief  accompanying*  consciousness  be  resolved  into  any  process 
of  reasoning,  or  any  other  intellectual  operation  ;  for  if  we  are  ask- 
ed, Why  we  believe  that  we  have  a  soul,  and  that  soul  has  faculties 
or  active  powers,  which  may  all  be  exerted  together,  or  in  the  least 
measurable  portion  of  time  ?  we  shall  be  unable  to  give  any  better 
reason,  than  that  we  feel  such  to  be  the  case  ;  that  is,  in  more  accu- 
rate language,  that  we  are  conscious  of  it. 

101.  No  man  can  divine  the  mysterious  union  of  soul 
and  body,  but  every  man  feels  that  his  mind  is  present,  in  a 
particular  manner,  to  whatever  affects  his  senses ;  and,  in 
other  instances,  that  it  is  equally  present  to  the  most  re- 
mote, as  to  the  nearest  object  of  thought. 

Corol.  Thus  we  may  consider  the  evidence  of  consciousness  as  due 
of  those  intuitive  truths  most  universally  admitted. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  SENSATION. 

102.  SENSATION  has  been  defined  the  faculty  by  which 
we  experience  pleasing  or  painful  effects  from  various  ob- 
jects, through  the  medium  of  the  senses. 

Obs.  The  senses  come  to  maturity  even  in  infancy,  when  other 
powers  have  not  yet  sprung  up.  They  are  common  to  us  with  brute 
animals,  and  furnish  us  with  the  objects  about  which  our  other  pow- 
ers are  most  frequently  employed.  We  find  it  easy  to  attend  to 
their  operations ;  and  because  they  arc  familiar,  the  names  which 
properly  belong  to  them,  are  applied  to  other  powers  that  are 
thought  to  resemble  them  ;  for  these  reasons  they  claim  our  atten- 
tion in  an  analysis  of  the  faculty  of  sensation,  which  naturally  de- 
mands to  be  first  considered  among  the  objects  of  our  conscious- 
ness. 

103.  The  media  by  which  all  sensation  is  communicated 
to  the  mind,  are  the  five  senses  of  seeing,  smelling,  tasting, 
bearing,  and  touch. 


.  u.  Of  Mt/i' :iJW:i«  47 

104.  Of  these  senses,  sight  is,  without  doubt,  the  noblest. 
The  variety  of  information  and  of  enjoyment  that  we  receive 
by  it,  the  rapidity  with  which  this  information  and  enjoy- 
ment are  conveyed  to  us ;  and,  above  all,  the  intercourse 
which  it  enables  us  to  maintain  with  the  more  distant  parts 
of  the  universe,  as  for  example,  with  the  planets  and  their 
satellites,  cannot  fail  to  give  it,  even  in  the  apprehension  of 
the  most  careless  observer,  a  pre-eminence  over  all  our 
other  perceptive  faculties. 

105.  The  sense  of  smelling  informs  us  of  certain  qual- 
ities or  virtues  in  bodies,  which  we  call  their  smell ;  and 
we  shall  therefore  consider  the  term  smell  as  signifying  a 
sensation,  a  feeling,  or  an  impression  upon  the  mind  ;  and 
which  can  only  be  in  a  mind,  or  sentient  being. 

Illus.  1.  The  sensation  produced  by  this  sense  can  have  no  exis- 
tence but  when  something  that  emits  an  odour  is  smelled.  It  there- 
fore appears  to  be  a  simple  and  original  affection  or  feeling  of  the 
mind,  altogether  inexplicable  and  unaccountable.  It  is  indeed  im- 
possible that  it  can  be  bady,  nor  can  we  ascribe  to  it  figure,  colour, 
extension,  or  any  other  quality  of  a  body  :  it  is  a  sensation,  and  a 
sensation  can  only  be  in  a  sentient  being. 

2.  The  various  odours  have  each  their  different  degrees  of  strength 
and  weakness.     Most  of  them  are  agreeable  or  disagreeable ;  and 
frequently  those  that  are  agreeable  when  weak,  are  disagreeable 
when  stronger.     We  can  compare  different  smells  together;  we 
can  perceive  very  few  resemblances  or  contrarieties,  or  indeed  re- 
lations of  any  kind  between  them.     They  are  all  simple  in  them- 
selves, and  so  different  from  each  other,  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  divide  them  into  genera  and  species.     Most  of  the  names  that  we 
give  them  are  particular;  a-s,  the   smell  of  &  jessamine,  of  a  rose, 
and  the  like.     Yet  there  are  some  general  names ;  as  sweet,  stink- 
ing, musty,  putrid,   cadaverous,  aromatic.     Some  of  them  seem  to 
refresh  and  animate  the  mind,  others  to  deaden  and  depress  it. 

3.  But  the  power,  quality,  or  virtue,  in  the  rose,  or  in  the  efflu- 
via proceeding  from  it,  hath  a  permanent  existence,  independent 
of  the  mind,  and  which  by  the  constitution  of  our  nature  produces 
the  sensation  in  us.     By  the  original  constitution  of  our  nature,  we 
are  both  led  to  believe,  that  there  is  a  permanent  cause  of  the  sen- 
sation, and,  prompted  to  seek  after  it,  experience  determines  us  to 
place  it  in  the  rose. 

106.  The  relation  which  the  sensation  of  smell  bears  to 
the  memory  and  imagination  of  it,  and  to  a  mind  or  subject, 
is  common  to  all  our  sensations,  and  indeed  to  all  the  op- 
erations of  the  mind :  the  relation  it  bears  to  the  will,  is 
common  to  it  with  all  the  powers  of  the  understanding: 
and  the  relation  it  bears  to  that  quality  or  virtue  of  bodies 
which  it  indicates,  is  common  to  it  with  the  sensations  ol 


48  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11. 

taste,  hearing,  colour,  heat,  cold :  so  that  what  hath  been 
said  of  this  sense,  may  easily  be  applied  to  several  of  our 
senses,  and  other  operations  of  the  mind. 

•  Obs.  1 .  But  in  what  manner  the  organs  of  our  corporeal  frame 
contribute  to  excite  the  various  sensations  which  we  are  capable  of 
experiencing-,  or  how  the  communication  between  material  objects 
and  our  immaterial  thinking-  principle,  is  carried  on,  are  questions 
which  have  hitherto  eluded  the  ing-enuity  of  inquisitive  men. 

2.  Anatomists  have  carefully  analysed  the  various  organs  of  sense, 
as  well  as  the  structure  of  the  nerves  and  brain ;  and  are  able  to 
shew  us  that,  in  all  the  senses,  the  peculiar  impressions  seem  to  be 
communicated  to  the  nerves ;  and  as  all  the  nerves  terminate  in 
the  brain,  the  impressions  are,  probably,  conveyed  thither  finally. 
Here  all  our  inquiries  must  terminate.  (See  Ulus.  Art.  67.  and  Illus. 
Art.  70.) 

107.  When  sensation  is  excited  in  the  mind,  it  is  gen- 
erally in  consequence  of  some  impression  first  made  upon 
the  corporeal  senses.     But,  in  some  instances,  the  cause  ori- 
ginates in  the  mind,  (as  is  evident  from  the  thrilling  sensa- 
tion which  accompanies  certain  affections  of  mind,)  and  is 
thence  communicated  to  the  bodily  organs,  while  apparent- 
ly an  effect  is  produced  precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  mor^ 
usual  kind  of  sensation. 

Illus.  It  is  well  known,  that  the  mere  thought  of  pain,  in  any  par- 
ticular part  of  the  body,  is  sufficient  to  excite  the  corresponding- 
sensation  in  a  certain  degree.  Thus,  the  idea  of  sore  eyes  produces 
a  certain  degree  of  pain  in  those  organs ;  and  the  strong  imagination 
of  any  particular  taste  or  flavour,  is  accompanied  with  a  slight  sen- 
sation of  that  taste  or  flavour. 

108.  We  have  already  noticed  the  difference  between 
sensation  and  perception  (&rt.  42)  ;  and  it  is  obvious,  that 
to  speak  intelligibly  and  scientifically,  we  should  say,  "the 
sensation  of  hunger,  of  fear,  of  joy,"  and  "the  perception 
of  extension,  figure,  magnitude,"  and  the  like. 

109.  Many  affections  of  the  mind  are  accompanied  with 
strong  sensations,  either  pleasant  or  painful. 

Jllus.  1.  Anger,  terror,  envy,  revenge,  and  all  the  malevolent 
passions,  have  a  very  powerful  effect,  upon  the  bodily  frame,  and 
excite  sensations  which  are  of  a  very  disagreeable  kind.  Upon  the 
other  hand,  joy,  admiration,  love,  and  all  the  amiable  emotions,  pro- 
duce sensations  which  are  decidedly  pleasurable. 

2.  Such  sensations  are  frequently,  in  common  language,  called 
feelings ;  a  name,  however,  which  more  properly  belongs  to  the 
pleasurable  effect  of  our  benevolent  affections,  and  moral  judg- 
ments, as  well  as  to  the  pleasure  accompanying  our  approbation  in 
matters  of  taste,  f  Obs.  Art.  42.) 


CHAP.  ii.  Of  Sensation.  49 

110.  These  feelings  appear  to  be  almost  purely  of  an  in- 
tellectual nature ;  while  the  term  sensation,  as  we  wish  to 
limit  it,  includes  a  distinct  affection  of  the  body,  as  well  as 
of  the  mind. 

Ilhfs.  Thus,  the  sensation  produced  by  the  smell  of  a  rose  is  a 
certain  affection  or  feeling-  of  the  mind.  What  is  the  smell  of  the 
rose  ?  It  is  a  quality  or  virtue  of  the  rose,  of  something  proceeding" 
from  it,  which  we  perceive  by  the  sense  of  smelling  ;  and  this  is  all 
we  know  of  the  matter.  But  what  is  smelling  ?  It  is  an  act  of  the 
mind,  but  is  never  imagined  to  be  a  quality  of  the  mind,  f  Illus. 
Art.  39.) 

Corol.  Therefore  smell  in  the  rose,  and  the  sensation  caused  by 
it,  are  not  conceived  to  be  things  of  the  same  kind,  although  they 
have  the  same  mane. 

111.  According  to  the  views  now  brought  forward  and 
illustrated,  our  sensations  may  be  divided  into  those  which 
arise  from  the  operation  of  material  objects  upon  the  five 
senses;  those  which  accompany  our  appetites,  as  hunger, 
thirst,  and  the  like ;  and  those  which  arise  from  the  action 
•',cthe  passions,  and  stronger  emotions. 

Obs.  These  last  are  by  far  the  most  numerous  of  the  three  kinds ;  but 
so  little  attention  is  paid  to  them,  that  they  have  no  names,  and  are 
immediately  forgotten,  as  if  they  had  never  been ;  so  that  it  requires 
a  considerable  degree  of  attention  to  the  operations  of  our  minds, 
to  be  convinced  of  their  existence.  (See  Illus.  Jlrt.  93.) 

112.  The  Author  of  Nature,  in  the  distribution  of  agree- 
able and  painful  feelings,   hath  wisely   and  benevolently 
consulted  the  good  of  the  human  species,  and  hath  even 
shewn  us,  by  the  same  means,  what  tenor  of  conduct  we 
ought  to  hold. 

Illus.  J?or9  first,  the  painful  sensations  of  the  animal  kind,  are  ad- 
monitions to  avoid  what  would  hurt  us ;  and  the  agr«eable  sensations 
of  the  same  kind,  invite  us  to  those  actions  that  are  necessary  to  the 
preservation  of  the  individual  or  of  the  species. 

Secondly.  By  the  same  means  nature  invites  us  to  moderate  our 
bodily  exercise,  and  admonishes  us  to  avoid  idleness  and  inactivity 
on  the  one  hand,  and  excessive  labour  and  fatigue1  on  the  other. 

Thirdly.  The  moderate  exercise  of  all  our  rational  powers  gives 
pleasure.  .  ^ 

Fourthly.  Every  species  of  beauty  is  beheld  with  pleasure,  and 
every  species  of  deformity  with  disgust;  and  we  shall  find  all  that 
we  call  beautiful,  to  be  something  estimable  or  useful  in  itself,  or  a 
sign  of  something  that  is  estimable  or  useful. 

fifthly.  The  benevolent  affections  are  all  accompanied  with  an 
agreeable  feeling,  the  malevolent  with  the  contrary. 

And,  Sixthly.  The  highest,  the  noblest,  and  most  durable  plea- 
sure, is  that  of  doing  well,  and  acting  the  part  that  becomes  us  ;  and 
the  most '.bitter  and  painful  sensation,  the  anguish  and  remorse  of  a 
guilty  conscience. 


50  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  u. 

Note.  The  faculty  of  sensation  receives  additional  illustration  in 
Chapter  1st,  Book  III.  under  the  investigation  of  the  "primary  and 
secondary  qualities  of  bodies" 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  PERCEPTION. 

113.  PERCEPTIPN  we  explained  to  be  the  faculty  by 
which  we  are  informed  of  the  properties  of  external  objects, 
in  consequence  of  the  impressions  which  they  make  on  the 
organs  of  sense  ;  and  the  distinction  between  it  and  concep- 
tion, consciousness,  remembrance,  and  sensation,  was  suf- 
ficiently illustrated  under  Articles  22,  23,  and  24. 

Obs.  The  corporeal  organs  of  sense  are  subservient  to  the  opera- 
tion of  the  faculty  of  perception,  as  well  as  of  sensation,  which  gene- 
rally accompanies  it.  Yet  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose,  that 
these  organs  rather  limit  and  circumscribe  this  intellectual  faculty, 
than  that  they  are  essential  to  its  operation ;  and  that  beings  of  a 
superior  order,  uncircumscribed  by  bodily  organs  like  ours,  may 
enjoy  perception  in  a  much  more  perfect  degree  than  we  do.  A 
person  who  had  been  all  his  life  shut  up  in  a  chamber  with  a  single 
window,  would  naturally  conceive  that  window  to  be  essential  to 
his  sight,  instead  of  being  the  cause  of  his  very  limited  view.  (See 
Obs.  3.  Art.  6.) 

114.  When  we  attend  io  that  act  of  our  mind  which  we 
call  the  perception  of  an  external  object,  we  shall  find  in  it 
these  three  things : 

First.  Some  conception  or  notion  of  the  object  perceived, 
(Illus.  1.  Art.  22.) 

Secondly.  A  strong  and  irresistible  conviction  and  belief 
of  its  present  existence,  (Illus.  2.  Art.  22.) 

Thirdly.  That  this  conviction  and  belief  are  immediate, 
and  not  the  effect  of  reasoning,  (Illus.  3.  Art.  22.) 

115.  First.  It  is  impossible*to  perceive  an  object  with- 
out some  notion  or  conception  of  that  which  we  perceive. 
We  may  indeed  conceive  an  object  which  we  do  not  per- 
ceive; but  when  we  perceive  the  object  we  must,  at  the 
same  time,  have  some  conception  of  it ;  and  we  have  com- 
monly a  more  clear  and  steady  notion  of  the  object  while 
we  perceive  it,  than  we  have  from  memory  or  imagination, 
when  it  is  not  perceived.     Yet,  even  in  perception,  the  no- 
tion which  our  senses  give  of  the  object  may  be  more  o- 
fess  clear,  more  or  less  distinct  in  all  possible  degrees, 


c  HAP.  in.  Of  Perception.  51 

fllus.  Thus,  we  see  more  distinctly  an  object  at  a  small  than  at  a 
great  distance.  The  satellites  of  Jupiter  are  invisible  to  the  naked 
eye,  but  we  discern  them  by  means  of  a  telescope.  An  object  at  a 
great  distance  is  seen  more  distinctly  in  a  clear  than  in  a  foggy  day. 
An  object  seen  indistinctly  with  the  naked  eye,  on  account  of  its 
smallnesSj  may  be  seen  distinctly  with  a  microscope.  The  objects 
in  this  room  will  be  seen,  by  a  person  in  the  room,  less  and  less  dis- 
tinctly as  the  light  of  the  day  fails; — they  pass  through  all  the 
various  degrees  of  distinctness  according  to  the  degrees  of  the  light, 
and  at  last,  in  total  darkness,  they  are  not  seen  at  all.  What  has 
been  said  of  the  objects  of  sight,  is  so  easily  applied  to  the  objects 
of  the  other  senses,  that  the  application  may  be  left  to  the  reader. 

116.  Secondly.  In  perception  we  not  only  have  a  notion 
more  or  less  distinct  of  the  object  perceived,  but  also  an  ir- 
resistible conviction  and  belief  of  its  existence.     This  is  al- 
ways the  case  when  we  are  certain  that  we  perceive  it. 
There  may  be  a  perception  so  faint  and  indistinct,  a"s  to 
leave  as  in  doubt  of  its  reality. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  when  a  star  begins  to  twinkle,  as  the  light  of  the 
sun  withdraws,  one  may,  for  a  short  time,  think  he  sees  it,  without 
being  certain,  until  the  perception  acquires  some  strength  and 
steadiness.  When  a  ship  just  begins  to  appear  in  the  utmost  verge 
of  the  horizon,  we  may  at  first  be  dubious  whether  we  perceive  it 
or  not.  But  when  the  perception  is  in  any  degree  clear  and  steady, 
there  remains  no  doubt  of  its  reality ;  and  when  the  reality  of  the 
perception  is  ascertained,  the  existence  of  the  object  perceived  can 
no  longer  be  doubted. 

2.  By  the  laws  of  all  nations,  in  the  most  solemn  judicial  trials, 
wherein  men's  fortunes  and  lives  are  at  stake,  the  sentence  passes 
according  to  the  testimony  of  eye  and  ear  witnesses  of  good  credit. 
An  upright  judge  will  give  a  fair  hearing  to  every  objection  that  can 
be  made  to  the  integrity  of  a  witness,  and  allow  it  to  be  possible  that 
he  may  be  corrupted ;  but  no  judge  will  ever  suppose  that  witness- 
es may  be  imposed  upon  by  trusting  to  their  eyes  and  ears.  And 
if  a  sceptical  counsel  should  plead  against  the  testimony  of  the  wit- 
nesses, that  they  had  no  other  evidence  for  what  they  declared  but 
the  testimony  of  their  eyes  and  ears,  and  that  the  jury  ought  not  to 
put  so  much  faith  in  the  witnesses  senses,  as  to  deprive  a  man  of  life 
and  fortune  upon  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses  eyes  and  ears,  the 
judge  would  reject  such  a  plea  with  disdain,  and,  by  men  of  common 
sense,  the  counsel  would  be  classed  among  lunatics  and  hypochon- 
driacal  persons.  (~Obs.  1  and  2.  Jlrt.  63.) 

117.  The  whole  conduct  of  mankind  in  the  daily  occur- 
rences of  life,  as  well  as  in  the  solemn  procedure  of  judicato- 
ries  in  the  trial  of  causes,  civil  and  criminal,  demonstrates 
that  the  evidence  of  sense  is  a  kind  of  evidence  which  we 
may  securely  rest  upon,  and  against  which  we  ought  not  to 
admit  any  reasoning ;  for,  being  perfectly  conclusive  and 
unanswerable,  to  reason  either  for  or  against  it,  is  an  insult  to 


jxJ  li  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n. 

common  sense.     (See  Obs.  and  Corol.  Art.  60;  and  Obs. 
and  foro/.  ^r/.  61.) 

118.  Thirdly.  This  conviction  is  not  only   irresistible, 
but  it  is  immediate ;    that  is,  it  is  not  by  a  train  of  reason- 
ing and  argumentation  that  we  come  to  be  convinced  of  the 
existence  of  what  we  perceive :  we  ask  no  argument  for  the 
existence  of  the  object  but  that  we  perceive  it ; — perception 
commands  our  belief  upon  its  own  authority,  and  disdains 
to  rest  that  authority  upon  any  reasoning  whatsoever. 

119.  The  conviction  of  a  truth  may  be  irresistible,  and 
yet  not  immediate. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  my  conviction  that  the  three  angles  of  every  plait* 
mangle  are  equal  to  two  rig-lit  angles,  is  irresistible,  but  it  is  not 
immediate.  I  am  convinced  of  it  by  demonstrative  reasoning'. 

2.  Our  belief  of  the  axioms  in  Euclid  is  not  grounded  upon  argu- 
ment, for  these  truths  cany  with  them  not  only  an  irresistible,  but 
an  immediate  conviction.  Arguments  are  not  grounded  upon 
them,  but  their  evidence  is  discerned  immediately  by  the  human 
understanding.  (See  Art.  44.  and  its  Illus.) 

120.  It  is,  no  doubt,  one  thing  to  have  an  immediate 
conviction  of  a  self-evident  axiom ;  it  is  another  thing  to 
have  an  immediate  conviction  of  what  we  see  ;  but  the  con- 
viction is  equally  immediate  and  irresistible  in  both  cases. 
?;See  lllus.  I  and  2.  Aft.  52.) 

Illw.  No  man  thinks  of  seeking  a  reason  to  believe  what  he  sees ; 
and,  before  we  are  capable  of  reasoning,  we  put  no  less  confidence 
in  our  senses  than  after.  The  rudest  savage  is  as  fully  convinced 
of  what  he  sees,  and  hears,  and  feels,  as  the  most  expert  logician  ; 
both  are  alike  incapable  of  giving  any  better  reason  for  this  belief, 
than  the  original  constitution  of  their  nature. 

Coral.  The  constitution  of  our  understanding  determines  us  to 
hold  the  truth  of  a  mathematical  axiom  as  a  first  principle,  from 
which  other  truths  may  be  deduced,  but  it  is  deduced  from  none  ; 
and  the  constitution  of  our  power  of  perception  determines  us  to 
hold  the  existence  of  what  we  distinctly  perceive  as  a  first  princi- 
ple, from  which  other  truths  may  be  deduced,  but  it  is  deduced 
from  none. 

121.  The  account  which  we  have  given  of  the  faculty  of 
perception,  amounts  to  this :  that  the  mind   is  so  formed, 
that  certain  impressions  produced  on  our  organs  of  sense  by 
external  objects,  are  followed  by  corresponding  sensations: 
and  that  these  sensations,  which  have  no  more  resemblance 
to  the  qualities  of  matter,  than  the  words  of-  a  language 
have  to  the  things  they  denote,   are  followed  by  a  percep- 
tion of  the  existence  and  qualities  of  the  bodies  by  which 
the  impressions  are  made ;  that  ail  the  steps  in  this  proces- 


CHAP.  iv.  Of  Attention.  53 

are  equally  incomprehensible ;  and  that,  for  any  thing  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  the  connection  between  the  sensation 
and  perception,  as  well  as  between  the  impression  and  the 
sensation,  may  be  both  arbitrary ;  that  it  is,  therefore,  by 
no  means  impossible,  that  our  sensations  may  be  merely 
the  occasions  on  which  perceptions  are  excited ;  and  that, 
at  any  rate,  the  consideration  of  these  sensations,  which 
are  attributes  of  mind,  can  throw  no  light  on  the  manner  in 
which  we  acquire  our  knowledge  of  the  existence  and  qual- 
ities of  bodies.  (STEWART'S  Philosophy  of  the  Human 
Mind.} 

CoroL  From  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  follows,  that  it  is  the  ex- 
ternal objects  themselves,  and  not  any  species  or  images  of  these 
objects  that  the  mind  perceives;  and  that,  although,  by  the  consti- 
tution of  our  nature,  certain  sensations  are  rendered  the  constant 
antecedents  of  our  perceptions,  yet  it  is  just  as  difficult  to  explain 
how  our  perceptions  are  obtained  by  this  means,  as  it  would  be 
upon  the  supposition  that  the  mind  were  all  at  once  inspired  with 
them,  without  any  concomitant  sensations  whatever.  The  infor- 
mation of  the  senses  is  as  perfect,  and  gives  as  full  conviction  to  the 
most  ignorant,  as  to  the  most  learned ;  and  the  conviction  we  hav« 
of  their  reality  rests  upon  consciousness,  a  faculty  that  puts  the 
poorest  of  mankind  upon  a  level  with  the  greatest.  (See  JLrt.  69.  QA*.  > 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  ATTENTION. 

122.  ATTENTION  is  the  faculty  which  detains,  for  our  ex- 
amination, ideas  or  perceptions  in  the  mind,  and  excludes 
other  objects  that  solicit  its  notice. 

IHus.  When  we  are  deeply  engaged  in  conversation,  or  occupied 
with  any  speculation  that  is  interesting  to  the  mind,  the  surround- 
ing objects  do  not  produce  in  us  the  perceptions  they  are  fitted  to 
excite ;  or  those  perceptions  are  instantly  forgotten.  Thus,  a 
clock  may  strike  in  the  same  room  with  us,  without  our  being 
able  the  next  moment  to  recollect  whether  we  heard  it  or  not, 

123.  In  these,  and  similar  cases,  ilt  is  commonly  taken 
for  granted,  that  we  really  do  not  perceive  the  external  ob- 
ject.    But  analogous  facts  may  serve  to  prove  that  this 
opinion  is  not  well  founded. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  a  person  who  falls  asleep  at  church,  and  is  sud- 
denly awaked,  is  unable  to  recollect  the  last  words  spoken  by  the 
preacher,  or  even  to  recollect  that  he  was  speaking.  And  yet,  that 

6 


54  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iji 

sleep  does  not  suspend  entirely  the  powers  of  perception  may  be 
inferred  from  this,  that,  if  the  preacher  were  to  make  a  sudden 
pause  in  his  discourse,  every  person  who  was  asleep  in  the  congre- 
gation would  instantly  awake. 

Corol.  In  this  case,  therefore,  it  appears,  that  a  person  may  be 
conscious  of  a  perception,  without  being*  able  afterwards  to  recol- 
lect it. 

Illus.  2.  When  we  read  a  book,  especially  in  a  language  that  is 
not  perfectly  familiar  to  us,  we  must  perceive  successively  every 
different  letter,  and  must  afterwards  combine  these  letters  into 
syllables  and  words,  before  we  comprehend  the  meaning"  of  a  sen- 
tence. This  process,  however,  passes  through  the  mind  without 
leaving"  any  trace  in  the  memory. 

3.  It  has  been  proved,  by  optical  writers,  that  in  perceiving*  the 
distances  of  visible  objects  from  the  eye,  there  is  a  judgment  of  the 
understanding1  antecedent  to  perception.     In  some  cases  this  judg- 
ment is  founded  on  a  variety  of  circumstances  combined  together—- 
the conformation  of  the  organs  necessary  for  distinct  vision — the  in- 
clination of  the  optic  axes — the  distinctness  or  indistinctness  of  the 
minute  parts  of  the  object — the  distances  of  the  intervening  object* 
from  each  other  and  from  the  eye — and,  perhaps,  on  other  circum- 
stances besides  these  ; — and  yet,  in  consequence  of  our  familiarity 
with  such  processes  from  our  earliest  infancy,  the  perception  seems 
to  be  instantaneous. 

4.  As  a  further  illustration,  we  shall  produce  another  instance  of 
a  nature  still  more  familiar,     It  is  well  known,  (says  Mr.  Stuart,  to 
whom,  for  authority's  sake,  I  attribute  the  materials  of  which  this 
chapter  is  composed,)  that  our  thoughts  do  not  succeed  each  other 
at  random,  but  according   to   certain  laws  of  association,   which 
modern  philosophers   have  been  at  pains  -to  investigate.     It  fre- 
quently happens,  particularly  when  the  mind  is  animated  by  con- 
versation, that  it  makes  a  sudden  transition  from  one  subject  to 
another,  which,  at  first  view,  appears  to  be  very  remote  from  it ; 
and  that  it  requires  a  considerable  degree  of  reflection,  to  enable 
the  person  himself,  by  whom  the  transition  was  made,  to  ascertain 
what  were  the  intermediate  ideas.     A  curious  instance  of  such  sud- 
den transition  is  mentioned  by  Hobbs,  in  his  Leviathan :    "  In  a 
company,  (says  he)  in  which  the  conversation  turned  on  the 'civil 
war,  what  could  be  conceived  more  impertinent,  than  for  a  person 
to  ask  abruptly,  What  was  the  value  of  a  Roman  denarius  ?     On  a 
littie  reflection,  however,   1  was  easily  able  to  trace  the  train  of 
thought  which  suggested  the  question  ;   for  the  original  subject  of 
discourse  naturally  introduced  the  history  of  the  king,    and  the 
treachery  of  those  who  surrendered  his  person  to  his  enemies;  this 
tigain  introduced  the  treachery  of  Judas  Iscariot,  and  the  sum  of 
money  which  he  received  for  his  reward.     And  all  this  train  of 
ideas  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  speaker  in  a  twinkling,  in 
consequence  of  the  velocity  of  thought."     Upon  this  anecdote  Mr. 
Stewart  observes  very  justly,    "  It  is  by  no  means  improbable,  that 
if  the  speaker  himself  had  been  interrogated  about  the  connection 
of  ideas,  which  led  him  aside  from  the  original  topic  of  discourser 
he  would  have  found  himself,  at  first,  at  a  loss  for  an  answer." 


OHAP.  iv.  Of  $ttetttio&.  55 

Corol.  The  three  last  illustrations  furnish  us  with  proof  that  a 
perception  or  an  idea,  which  passes  through  the  mind,  may  yet 
serve  to  introduce  other  ideas  connected  with  it  by  the  laws  of  as- 
sociation. 

124.  When  a  perception   or  idea  passes  through  the 
mind,  without  bur  being  able  to  recollect  it  the  next  moment, 
persons  the  most  illiterate  ascribe  their  want  of  memory 
to  a  want  of  attention. 

Illus.  Thus,  in  the  instance  already  mentioned  of  the  clock, 
C Illus.  Jirt.  122.)  a  person,  upon  observing*  that  the  minute  hand 
had  just  passed  twelve,  would  naturally  say,  that  he  did  not  attend 
to  the  clock  when  it  was  striking1. 

Corol.  There  seems,  therefore,  to  be  a  certain  effort  of  mind  upon 
which,  even  in  the  judgment  of  those  who  make  no  pretensions  to 
philosophy,  memory  in  some  measure  depends ;  and  this  effort  they 
distinguish  by  the  name  of  attention. 

125.  The  memory  depends  much  on  the  degree  of  atten- 
tion which  we  give  it ;  and  it  seems  essential  to  memory, 
that  the  perception  or  the  idea  which  we  would  wish  to 
remember,  should  remain  in  the  mind  for  a  certain  space  of 
time,  and  should   be   contemplated   by  it  exclusively  of 
every  thing  else ;  and  that  attention  consists  partly  (per- 
haps entirely)  in  the  effort  of  the  mind,  to  detain  the  idea 
or  perception,  and  to  exclude  the  other  objects  that  solicit 
its  notice.     And  though  there  may   be  some  difficulty  of 
ascertaining  in  what  this  act  of  the  mind  consists,  every 
person  must  be  satisfied  of  its  reality  from  his  own  con- 
sciousness, and  of  its  essential   connection  with  the  power 
of  memory. 

Obs.  The  several  instances  which  have  already  been  mentioned, 
of  ideas  passing  through  the  mind  without  our  being  able  to  recol- 
lect them  the  next  moment,  were  produced  merely  to  illustrate  the 
meaning  which  we  annex  to  the  word  attention,  and  to  recal  to  the 
recollection  of  the  student,  a  few  striking  cases,  in  which  the  pos- 
sibility of  carrying  on  a  process  of  thought,  which  we  are  unable  to 
attend  to  at  the  time,  or  to  remember  afterwards,  is  acknowledged 
in  the  received  systems  of  philosophy. 

126.  Among  the  phenomena  which  appear  to  be  very  si- 
milar to  those  we  have  introduced,  illustrative  of  the  facul- 
ty of  attention,  and  which  are  explicable  in  the  same  man- 
ner, may  be  classed  the  wonderful  effect  of  practice  in  the 
formation  of  habits — one  of  the  most  curious  circumstances 
in  the  human  constitution. 

Illus.  A  mechanical  operation,  for  example,  which  we  at  first 
performed  with  the  utmost  difficulty,  comes,  in  time,  to  be  so 
familiar  to  UTS,  that  we  are  able  to  perform  it  without  the  smallest 


Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  nrf 

danger  of  mistake ;  even  while  the  attention  appears  to  be  com- 
pletely engaged  with  other  subjects.  The  truth  seems  to  be,  that 
in  consequence  of  the  association  of  ideas,  the  different  steps  of 
the  process  present  themselves  successively  to  our  thoughts,  with- 
out any  recollection  on  our  part,  and  with  a  degree  of  rapidity 
proportioned  to  the  length  of  our  experience ;  so  as  to  save  us 
entirely  the  trouble  of  hesitation  and  reflection,  by  giving  us  every 
moment  a  precise  and  steady  notion  of  the  effect  to  be  produced. 

127.  In  the  case  of  some  operations  which  are  very  fa- 
miliar to  us,  we  find  ourselves  unable  to  attend  to  the  acts 
of  the  will  by  which  they  were  preceded,  or  even  to  recol- 
lect those  acts ;  but  the  circumstance  of  our  inability  to  re- 
collect our  volitions,  does  not  authorize  us  to  dispute  their 
possibility,  any  more  than  our  inability  to  attend  to  the 
process  of  the  mind,  in  estimating  the  distance  of  an  object 
from  the  eye,  authorizes  ws  to  affirm  that  the  perception  is 
instantaneous. 

128.  Habit  differs  from  instinct,  not  in  its  nature,  but  in 
Ss  origin  ;  the  last  being  natural,  the  first  acquired.     Both 
appear  to  operate  without  will  or  intention,  without  thought, 
and  have  therefore  been  called  mechanical  principles. 

lllus.  Thus,  suppose  a  person  who  has  a  perfectly  voluntary  com- 
mand over  his  fingers  to  begin  to  learn  to  play  on  the  harpsichord. 
The  first  step  is  to  move  his  fingers  from  one  key  to  another,. with 
a  slow  motion,  looking  at  the  notes,  and  exerting  an  express  act  of 
volition  in  every  motion.  By  degrees  the  motions  cling  to  one 
another,  and  to  the  impressions  of  the  notes,  in  the  way  of  associa- 
tion, the  acts  of  volition  growing  less  and  less  express  all  the  time, 
till  at  last  they  become  evanescent  aud  imperceptible.  For  an 
expert  performer  will  play  from  notes,  or  notions  of  notes  laid  up 
in  the  memory ;  and  at  the-same  time  carry  on  a  train  of  thoughts  in 
his  mind  quite  different  from  the  piece  of  music  which  he  is  play- 
ing, or  even  hold  a  conversation  with  another.  Here,  it  appeal's, 
that  those  operations  which  have  become  habitual  from  long  prac- 
tice, preclude  the  possibility  of  recollecting  every  different  voli- 
tion of  the  mind,  yet  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  there  is  an  act  of 
the  will  preceding  every  motion  of  each  finger,  since  the  most 
rapid  performer  can,  when  he  pleases,  play  so  slowlyi  as  to  be 
able  to  attend  to  every  separate  act  of  his  will  in  the  various  move- 
ments of  his  fingers,  and  even  to  recollect  those  volitions  after- 
wards ;  and  he  can  gradually  accelerate  the  rate  of  his  execution, 
till  he  is  unable  to  recollect  these  acts. 

Corol.  The  operations  in  these  two  cases  appear  to  be  earned 
on  precisely  in  the  same  manner,  and  differ  only  in  the  degree  of 
rapidity  ;  and  when  this  rapidity  exceeds  a  certain  rate,  the  acts  of 
the  will  are  too  momentary  to  leave  any  impression  on  the 
memory. 

129.  The  corollary  just  drawn  from  this  second  illustra 


HAP.  iv.  Of  Attention.  57 

tion,  is  supported  by  the  analogy  of  many  other  facts  in 
our  constitution. 

Jllus.  1.  Thus,  an  expert  accountant  can  sum  up  almost  at  a 
single  glance  of  his  eye,  a  long-  column  of  figures ;  nay,  of  far- 
things, pence,  shilling's,  and  pounds,  at  one  and  the  same  time  ; — 
he  can  tell  the  sum  with  unerring*  certainty,  while,  at  the  same 
time,  he  is  unable  to  recollect  any  one  of  the  figures  of  which  that 
sum  is  composed :  and  yet  nobody  doubts  that  each  of  these  fig- 
ures has  passed  through  his  mind,  or  supposes  that  when  the  ra- 
pidity of  the  process  becomes  so  great  that  he  is  unable  to  recol- 
lect the  various  steps  of  it,  he  obtains  the  result  by  a  sort  of 
inspiration. 

2.  It  has  been  found,  by  actual  trial,  that  it  is  possible  to  pro- 
nounce about  two  thousand  letters  in  a  minute,  and  though  the 
inconceivable  rapidity  with  which  our  intellectual  operations  pro- 
ceed, render  it  impossible  to  discriminate  the  volitions  of  our 
mind,  the  articulation  of  every  letter,  in  reading  aloud,  must  be 
preceded  by  a  separate  volition.  Here,  then,  we  have  evidence 
that  the  mind  is  so  formed  as  to  be  able  to  carry  on  certain  intel- 
lectual processes,  in  intervals  of  time  too  short  to  be  estimated  by 
our  faculties ;  yet,  were  our  powers  of  attention  and  memory  more 
perfect  than  they  are,  so  as  to  give  us  the  same  advantage  in  exa- 
mining rapid  events,  which  the  microscope  gives  us  for  examin- 
ing minute  portions  of  extension,  they  would  enlarge  our  views  with 
respect  to  the  intellectual  world,  no  less  than  that  instrument  has 
with  respect  to  the  material. 

130.  As  the  great  use  of  attention  and  memory  is  to  en- 
able us  to  treasure  up  the  results  of  our  experience  and  re 
flection  for  the  future  regulation  of  our  conduct,  it  would 
have  answered  no  purpose  for  the  author  of  our  nature  to 
have  extended  their  province  to  those  intervals  of  time, 
which  we  have  no  occasion  to  estimate  in  the  common  bu- 
siness of  life.     All  the  intellectual  processes  which  have 
been  mentioned,   are  subservient  to  some  particular  end, 
either  of  perception  or  of  action  ;  and  it  would  have  been 
perfectly  superfluous,  if,  after  this  end  were  gained,  the 
steps  which  are  instrumental  in  bringing  it  about,  were  all 
treasured  up  in  the  memory :  such  a  constitution  of  our 
nature  would   have  had   no  other  -j£.\ct  but  (o  store  the 
mind  with  a  variety  of  useless  particulars. 

131.  In  confirmation  of  these  reasonings  on  the  faculty 
of  attention,  the  following  illustration  affords  a  -n.^re  palpa- 
ble instance  than  u  -y  that  v;e  have  y<>i  me :•  "i^ed,  of  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  thoughts  may  be  trained   up  by 
practice,  to  shift  from  one  thing  to  another 

Illus.  1.  WV.c.-;i  an  rquili!:*ist  bu.Vices  p.  rod  upon  his  nnger,  not 
only  the  attention  of  his  mind,  but  the  observation  of  his  eye,  is 

*  6 


58  Ji  Grammar  of  IsOgic.  Boo/i  ii, 

constantly  requisite.  It  is  evident  that  the  part  of  his  body  which 
supports  the  object  is  never  wholly  at  rest ;  otherwise  the  object 
would  not  more  stand  upon  it,  than  if  placed  in  the  same  position 
upon  a  table.  The  equilibrist,  therefore,  must  watch,  in  the  very 
beginning",  every  inclination  of  the  object  from  the  proper  position, 
in  order  to  counteract  this  inclination  by  a  contrary  movement.  In 
this  manner  the  object  has  never  time  to  fall  in  any  one  direction, 
and  is  supported  in  a  way  somewhat  analogous  to  that  in  which  a 
top  is  supported  on  a  pivot,  by  being  made  to  spin  upon  an  axis. 

2.  That  a  person  should  be  able  to  do  this  in  the  case  of  a  single 
object,  is  curious ;  but  that  he  should  be  able  to  balance,  in  the  same 
way,  two,  three,  nay,  half  a  dozen  of  objects,  upon  different  parts  of 
his  body,  and  at  the  same  time  balance  himself  on  a  small  cord  or 
wire,  is  indeed  wonderful.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive,  that  in 
Such  an  instance,  the  mind,  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  attends  to 
these  equilibriums ;  for  it  is  not  merely  the  attention  which  is  requi^ 
site,  but  the  eye.  We  must  therefore  conclude,  that  both  the 
attention  and  the  eye  are  directed  successively  to  the  different 
equilibriums,  but  change  from  one  object  to  another  with  such 
velocity,  that  the  effect,  with  respect  to  the  experiment,  is  the 
same  as  if  they  were  directed  to  all  the  objects  constantly. 

CoroL  This  last  illustration  affords  direct  evidence,  as  Mr.  Stuart 
observes,  of  the  possibility  of  our  exerting  acts  of  the  will,  which 
we  are  unable  to  recollect;  for  the  movements  of  the  equilibrist  do 
not  succeed  each  other  in  regular  order,  like  those  of  the  harpsi- 
chord player,  in  performing  a  piece  of  music ;  but  must,  in  every 
instance,  be  regulated  by  accidents,  which  may  vary  in  numberless 
respects, — and  which  indeed  must  vary  in  numberless  respects  every 
time  he  repeats  the  experiment ;  and,  therefore,  though  in  the  case 
of  the  musician,  we  should  suppose  that  the  motions  cling  to  one 
another  and  to  the  impressions  of  the  notes,  in  the  way  of  associa- 
*  ion,  without  any  intervention  in  the  state  of  mind  called  -will,  yet,  in 
this  instance  of  the  equilibrist,  even  the  possibility  of  such  a  sup- 
position is  directly  contradicted  by  the  fact  which  has  been  estab- 
lished. 

132.  The  faculty  of  attention  is  susceptible  of  much  irn- 
provenent,  as  may   be  established  from  the  well   known 
fact,  that  a  person  who  accidentally  loses  his  sight,  never 
iails  to  improve  gradually  in  the  sensibility  of  his  touch. 

Jilns.  Now  there  are  only  two  ways  of  explaining  this.  The  one 
.is,  that  in  consequence  of  the  loss  of  the  one  sense,  some  change 
takes  place  in  the  physical  constitution  of  the  body,  so  as  to  improve 
a  different  organ  of  perception.  The  other  is,  that  the  mind  gradu- 
ally acquires  a  power  of  attending  to  and  remembering  those  slight- 
er sensations  of  which  it  was  formerly  conscious,  but  which,  from 
habits  of  inattention,  made  no  impression  whatever  on  the  memory. 
No  one,  surely,  can  hesitate  for  a  moment,  in  pronouncing  which  of 
these  two  suppositions  is  the  more  philosophical. 

133.  Hitherto  we  liave  treated   only  of  those  habits  in 
which  both  mind  and  body  are  concerned ;  but  there  arc 


CJHAP,  iv.  Of  Mention.  59 

phenomena  purely  intellectual,  that  are  explicable  on  the 
same  principles. 

Illus.  1 .  Every  person  who  has  studied  the  elements  of  geometry, 
must  have  observed  many  cases  in  which  the  truth  of  a  theorem 
struck  him  the  moment  he  heard  the  enunciation ;  yet  he  might 
not  be  able  to  state  immediately  to  others  upon  what  his  conviction 
was  (bunded;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  before  he  gave 
his  assent  to  the  theorem,  a  process  of  thought  passed  through  the 
mind,  but  passed  so  quickly,  that  he  could  not,  without  difficulty, 
arrest  his  ideas  in  their  rapid  succession,  and  state  them  to  others 
in  their  proper  and  logical  order. 

134.  In  politics,  in  morals,  and  in  common  life,  many 
questions  daily  occur,  in  considering  which,  we  almost  in- 
stantaneously see  where  the  truth  lies,  although  we  are  not 
in  a  condition,  all  at  once,  to  explain  the  grounds  of  our 
conviction.     But  even  in  those  cases  in  which  the  truth 
of  a  proposition  seems   to  strike  us  instantaneously,   al- 
though we  may  not  be  able,  at  first,  to  discover  the  media  of 
proof,  we  seldom  fail  in   the  discovery  by  perseverance. 
And  nothing  contributes  so  much  to  form  this  talent  as 
that  study  which  has  the  operations  of  the  mind   for  its 
object ;  for  by  habituating  us  to  reflect  on  the  subjects  of 
our  consciousness,  it  enables  us  to  retard,  in  a  considera- 
ble degree,  the  current  of  thought;  to  arrest  many  of  those 
ideas  which  would   otherwise  escape  our  notice;  and  to 
render  the  arguments  which*  we  employ  for  the  conviction 
of  others,  an  exact  transcript  of  those  trains  of  inquiry  and 
reasoning,  which  originally  led  us  to  form  our  opinions. 

135.  Men  of  business,  who  are  under  the  necessity  of 
thinking  and  deciding  on  the  spur  of  the  occasion,  are  led 
to  cultivate,  as  much  as  possible,  a  quickness  in  their  men- 
tal operations  ;  and  sometimes  acquire  it  in  so  great  a  de- 
gree, that  their  judgments  seem  to  be  almost  intuitive,     A 
stock-jobber  knows  this. 

Obs.  And  the  greatest  generals,  in  new  and  untried  difficulties,  in 
the  midst  of  battle,  have,  with  a  quickness  that  astonished  all  around 
them,  decided  upon  movements  no  less  hazardous  than  successful. 
Now  long  practice  in  the  field  might  give  them  the  power  of  carry- 
ing-  on  certain  intellectual  processes  concerning  modes  of  attack 
and  defence,  but  the  reasoning's  by  which  their  judgments  were 
swayed,  in  those  particular  instances  we  have  alluded  to,  consisted 
only  of  a  few  steps,  which,  as  soon  as  the  intellectual  process  was 
finished,  vanished,  perhaps  for  ever,  entirely  from  the  memory. 

136.  On  the  other  hand,  men  of  speculation,  who  have 
not  merely  to  form  opinions  for  themselves,  but  to  commu- 
nicate them  to  others,  find  it  necessary  to  retard  the  train 


GO  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n. 

of  thought  as  it  passes  in  the  mind,  so  as  to  be  able  after- 
wards to  recollect  every  different  step  of  the  process ;  a 
habit  which,  in  some  cases,  has  such  an  influence  on  the  in- 
tellectual powers,  that  there  are  men  who,  even  in  their 
private  speculations,  not  only  make  use  of  words  as  an  in- 
strument of  thought,'  but  form  these  words  into  regular 
sentences. 

137.  When  a  train  of  thought  leads  to  any  interesting 
conclusion,  or  excites  any  pleasant  feeling,  it  becomes  pe- 
culiarly difficult  to  arrest  our  fleeting  ideas,  because  the 
mind   has  little  inclination  to  retrace  the  steps  by  which  it 
arrived  at  the  pleasure  which  it  now  feels. 

Obs.  This  is  one  great  cause  of  the  difficulty  attending1  philoso- 
phical criticism  ;  and  exquisite  sensibility,  so  far  from  being-  useful 
in  this  species  of  criticism,  both  gives  a  disrelish  for  the  study  and 
disqualifies  for  pursuing1  it  legitimately. 

138.  There  is  a  great  variety  of  cases,  in  which  the  mind 
apparently  excites  different  acts  of  attention  at  once  ;  but 
from  the  illustrations  which  we  have  gfven  of  the  astonish- 
ing rapidity  of  thought,  it  is  obvious,  that  those  acts  are  not 
co-existent ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  we  do  not  attend,  at 
one  and   the  same  instant,  to  objects  which  we  can  attend 
to  separately. 

Illus.  1.  The  case  of  the  equilibrist  and  rope-dancer  affords 
direct  evidence  of  the  possibility  of  the  mind's  exerting-  different 
successive  acts  in  an  interval  of  time  so  short,  as  to  produce  the 
same  sensible  effect  as  if  they  had  been  exerted  at  one  and  the 
same  moment.  In  this  case,  every  movement  of  the  eyes  pre- 
cedes a  thought  of  the  mind,  every  thought  a  volition,  every  voli- 
tion a  separate  action  of  muscular  force,  but  so  rapidly  does  each 
of  these  succeed  the  other,  that  though  they  seem  instantaneous, 
they  cannot  be  mathematically  co-existent. 

2.  In  a  concert  of  music,  a  good  ear  can  attend  to  the  different 
parts  of  the  music  separate^,  or  can  attend   to  them  all  at  once, 
and  feel  the  full  effect  of  the  harmony  ;  but  the  mind  is  constantly 
varying  its  attention  from  one  part  of  the  music  to  the  other,  and 
its  operations  are  so  rapid  as  to  give  us  no  perception  of  an  inter- 
val of  time. 

3.  In  viewing  a  picture^  the  mind  at  one  and  the  same  time 
perceives  every  point  in  the  outline  of  the  object   (provided  the 
whole  be  painted  on  the  retina  at  one  and  the  same  instant,)  for 
perception,  like  consciousness,  is  an  involuntary  operation  ;  but  as 
no  two  points  of  the  outline  are  in  the  srane  direction,  every  point, 
by  itself,   coo^ti  Lutes  just  as  distinct  an  object  of  attention  to  the 
mind,  as  if  it  were  separated  by  an  interval  cf  v.mpty  space  from  all 
the  rest.     As,  therefore,  it  is  impossible  for   the  mind  to  uU-'ii..!  to 
more  than  one  of  those  points  at  once,  and  as  the  perception  of  the 


CHAP.  v.  Of  Conception.  61 

figure  of  the  object  implies  a  knowledge  of  the  relative  situation  of 
the  different  points  with  respect  to  each  other,  we  must  conclude 
that  the  perception  of  the  figure  by  the  eye,  is  the  result  of  a  num- 
ber of  different  acts  of  attention.  These  acts  of  attention,  however, 
are  performed  with  such  rapidity,  that  the  effect,  with  respect  to 
us,  is  the  same  as  if  the  perception  were  instantaneous. 

Corol.  1.  If  the  perception  of  visible  figure  were  an  immediate 
consequence  of  the  picture  on  the  retina,  we  should  have  at  the 
first  glance,  as  distinct  an  idea  of  a  figure  of  a  thousand  sides,  as  of 
a  triangle  or  a  square  ;  for  when  the  figure  is  very  simple,  the  pro- 
cess of  the  mind  is  so  rapid,  that  the  perception  seems  to  be  instan- 
taneous ;  but  when  the  sides  are  multiplied  beyond  a  certain  num- 
ber, the  interval  of  time  necessary  for  these  different  acts  of  atten- 
tion becomes  perceptible. 

2.  If  these  reasonings  be  admitted,  it  will  follow,  that  without 
the  faculty  of  memory,  we  could  have  no  perception  of  visible 
figure. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  CONCEPTION, 

139.  CONCEPTION  is  that  faculty  of  the  mind  which  en- 
ables us  to  form  a  notion  of  an  absent  object  of  perception ; 
or  of  a  sensation  which  it  has  formerly  felt. 

Illus.  When  a  painter  paints  a  picture  of  a  friend  who  is  absent 
or  dead,  he  is  commonly  said  to  paint  from  memory  ;  and  the  ex- 
pression is  sufficiently  correct  for  common  conversation.  I3ut,  in 
an  analysis  of  the  powers  of  the  mind,  there  is  ground  for  a  distinc- 
tion between  conception  and  the  other  powers,  with  some  of  which 
it  is  often  confounded.  The  power  of  conception  enables  the  pain- 
ter to  make  the  features  of  his  friend  an  object  of  thought,  so  as  to 
copy  the  resemblance  ;  the  power  of  memory  recognizes  these  fea- 
tures as  a  former  object  of  perception.  Thus,  conception  is  distin- 
guished from  memory.  Every  act  of  memory  includes  an  idea  of 
•the-past ;  conception  implies  no  idea  of  time  whatever. 
Note.  Shakespeare  calls  this  power  the  mind's  eye. 

Hamlet.  My  father  !  Methinks  I  see  my  father. 
Horatio.  Where,  my  lord  ? 
Hamlet.  In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

HAMLET,  Act  1.  Scene  4. 

140.  Conception  corresponds,  according  to  the  view  we 
have  taken  of  it,  to  what  the  schoolmen  call   simple  appre- 
hension ;  with  this  difference  only,  that  they  include,  un- 
der this  name,   our  apprehension  of  general  propositions ; 
whereas  the  word  conception  is,  in  this  volume,  limited  to 
our  sensations  and  the  objects  of  our  perceptions. 


64  A  Grammar  of  Logic, 

in  which  the  describer  possesesthe  power  of  conception 
Nor  is  it  merely  to  the  accuracy  of  our  description,  in  com- 
mon conversation,  that  this  power  is  subservient ;  it  contri- 
butes more  than  any  thing  else  to  render  them  striking  and 
expressive  to  others,  by  guiding  us  to  a  selection  of  such 
circumstances  as  are  most  prominent  and  characteristical. 

0&.5,  Ti;  :  !,  -t  rule  for  descriptive  composition,  is,  to  attend  to 
5 ho-  liicli  make  the  deepest  impression  on  our  own  minds. 

Ncv  ;    rticulars  are  in  general  the  outline  ;  and  it  is  the  pro- 

vin;  ption  to  neglect  a  minute  specification  of  particulars, 

jmu  ;.r.ly  such  as  struck  us  most  at  the  moment  the  object 

we  are  describing-  from  recollection  was  present  to  our  view.  A 
person  may  therefore  write  a  happier  description  of  an  object,  from 
the  conception  than  from  the  actual  perception  of  that  object. 

146.  The  foregoing  observations,  with  their  respective 
illustrations,  apply  to  conception  as  distinguished  from  im- 
agination.    The  two  faculties,  we  observed,  are  very  near- 
ly allied ;  and  are  frequently  so  blended  and  compounded, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  say,  to  which  of  the  two,  some  particu- 
lar operations  of  the  mind  are  to  be  referred.     There  are 
also  general  facts  which  hold  equally  with  respect  to  both. 

147.  The  exercise  both  of  conception  and  imagination  is 
always  accompanied  with  a  belief  that,  their  objects  exist. 

Ittus.  1.  Thus,  when  the  imagination  is  very  lively,  as  in  dream- 
ing and  madness,  a  real  existence  is  ascribed  to  its  objects  ;  and  in 
the  case  too  of  those  who,  in  spite  of  their  owrn  general  belief  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  vulgar  stories  of  apparitions,  <lare  not  trust 
themselves  alone  with  their  own  imaginations  in  the  dark,  we  have 
all  the  evidence  that  the  thing  admits  of,  that  imagination  is  atten- 
ded with  belief.  Dr.  Reid's  friend,  who  could  not  sleep  in  a  room 
alone,  nor  go  alone  into  a  room  in  the  dark,  i'elt  and  acted  in  the 
same  manner  as  he  would  have  clone,  if  he  had  believed  that  the  ob- 
jects of  his  fear  were  real,  which  is  the  only  proof  that  the  philoso- 
phers produce,  or  can  produce,  of  the  belief  which  accompanies 
perception. 

2.  The  painter  who  conceives  the  face  and  figure  of  an  absent 
friend,  in  order  to  draw  his  picture,  believes,  for  the  moment,  that 
his  friend  is  before  him.  The  belief  is  only  momentary,  for  it  is 
extremely  difficult,  in  our  waking  hours,  to  keep  up  a  steady  and 
undivided  attention  to  any  object  we  conceive  or  imagine  ;  and  us 
soon  as  the  conception  or  imagination  is  over,  the  belief  which  atten- 
ded it  is  at  an  end.  We,  in  fact,  consider  them  as  creations  of  the 
mind,  which  have  no  separate  and  independent  existence,  from  the 
facility  with  which  we  can  rceal  or  dismiss  the  objects  of  these 
powers  at  pleasure.  But  when  the  conceptions  of  the  mind  are 
icred  steady  and  permanent,  by  being  strongly  associated  with 
*u,y  sensible  impression,  as  when  we  gaze  on  a  magnificent  pros- 
pect, they  command  our  belief  no  less  that  our  actual  perceptions, 
and,  therefore,  if  it  were  possible  for  us,  with  our  eyes  shut,  to  keep 


.  Of  Conception.  60 

up  for  a  length  of  time,  the  conception  of  the  immense  extent  of  the 
whole  scene  that  had  formerly  engaged  our  eyes,  we  should,  as  long 
as  this  effort  continued,  believe  that  all  the  different  parts  of  which 
it  was  composed,  were  present  to  our  senses. 

148.  The  knowledge  we  obtain  by  the  eye,  of  the  tangi- 
ble qualities  of  bodies,  is  the  result  of  a  complex  operation 
of  the  mind ;  comprehending,  first,  the  perception  of  those 
qualities,   which  are  the  proper  and    original   objects  of 
sight ;  and,  secondly,  the  conception  of  those  tangible  quali- 
ties, of  which  the  original  perceptions  of  sight  are  found 
from  experience  to  be  the  signs. 

Carol.  The  notions,  therefore,  we  form  by  means  of  the  eye,  of 
the  tangible  qualities  of  bodies,  and  of  the  distances  of  these  ob- 
jects from  the  organ,  are  mere  conceptions  ;  strongly  and  indeed 
mdissolubly,  associated,  by  early  and  constant  habit,  with  the 
original  perceptions  of  sight. 

149.  The  eifects  which  exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress 
produce  on  the  mind,  may  all  be  resolved  into  the  concep- 
tions we  have,  for  the  moment,  that  the  whole  is  real. 

Him.  1.  During  the  representation  of  a  tragedy,  we  have  a  gen- 
eral conviction  that  the  whole  is  a  fiction ;  but,  I  believe,  no 
person  ever  witnessed  Mrs.  Siddons,  Miss  O'Neill,  Mr.  John  Kefn- 
ble,  and  Mr.  Kean,  in  tragedy,  who  did  not  partake  in  the  emotions 
which  those  artists  created ;  who  did  not  entertain  a  momentary 
belief  that  the  distresses,  which  were  but  fictitious,  were  actually- 
real.  But  whence  arose  this  belief?  whence  the  conception  ? — 
but  from  the  contagion  spread  by  the  faithful  expression  of  the 
passions. 

2.  The  emotions  produced  by  tragedy  are,  thence,  analogous  to 
the  dread  we  feel  when  we  look  down  from  the  battlements  of  a 
tower ;— or  the  horror  which  seizes  a  person,  who,  fleeing  from  a 
conflagration,  escapes  from  the  top  of  a  house,  by  a  path,  which* 
at  another  time,  he  would  have  considered  as  impracticable  ; — or  to 
the  astonishment  of  soldiers,  who,  in  mounting  a  breach,  have 
found  their  way  to  the  enemy,  by  a  route  which  appeared  inacces- 
sible after  their  violent  passions  had  subsided.  We  have  a  general 
conviction  that  there  is  no  ground  for  the  feelings  which  we  expe- 
rience during  the  representation  of  a  tragedy,  or  when  We  look 
down  from  the  battlements  of  a  tower,  any  more  than  the  person 
who  has  escaped  from  the  fire  has  to  feel  horror  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  imminent  danger  he  was  in  as  he  traversed  the  hazardous 
path,  or  than  the  soldier's  wonder  at  himself  in  having  scrambled 
by  a  route  the  bare  contemplation  of  which  suspends  his  curiosity 
*o  retrace  his  footsteps. 


64  A  Grammar  of  Logic, 

in  which  the  describer  possesesthe  power  of  conception, 
Nor  is  it  merely  to  the  accuracy  of  our  description,  in  com- 
mon conversation,  that  this  power  is  subservient ;  it  contri- 
butes more  than  any  thing  else  to  render  them  striking  and 
expressive  to  others,  by  guiding  us  to  a  selection  of  such 
circumstances  as  are  most  prominent  and  characteristic!!!. 

Obs.  TKe  b;  st  rule  for  descriptive  composition,  is,  to  attend  to 

liicli  make  the  deepest  impression  on  our  own  minds. 

Nov.  riiculars  are  in  general  the  outline  ;  and  it  is  the  pro- 

ptionto  neglect  a  minute  specification  of  particulars, 

ark"  .;!y  such  as  struck  us  most  at  the  moment  the  object 

we  are  describing1  from  recollection  was  present  to  our  view.     A 

person  may  therefore  write  a  happier  description  of  an  object,  from 

the  conception  than  from  the  actual  perception  of  that  object. 

146.  The  foregoing  observations,  with  their  respective 
illustrations,  apply  to  conception  as  distinguished  from  im- 
agination.    The  two  faculties,  we  observed,  are  very  near- 
ly allied ;  and  are  frequently  so  blended  and  compounded, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  say,  to  which  of  the  two,  some  particu- 
lar operations  of  the  mind  are  to  be  referred.     There  are 
also  general  facts  which  hold  equally  with  respect  to  both. 

147.  The  exercise  both  of  conception  and  imagination  is 
always  accompanied  with  a  belief  that. their  objects  exist. 

Him.  1.  Thus,  when  the  imagination  is  very  lively,  as  in  dream- 
ing and  madness,  a  real  existence  is  ascribed  to  its  objects  ;  and  in 
the  case  too  of  those  who,  in  spite  of  their  own  general  belief  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  vulgar  stories  of  apparitions,  'dare  not  trust 
themselves  alone  with  their  own  imaginations  in  the  dark,  we  have 
all  the  evidence  that  the  thing  admits  of,  that  imagination  is  atten- 
ded with  belief.  Dr.  Reid's  friend,  who  could  not  sleep  in  a  room 
alone,  nor  go  alone  into  a  room  in  the  dark,  ielt  and  acted  in  the 
same  manner  as  he  would  have  done,  if  he  had  believed  that  the  ob- 
jects of  his  fear  were  real,  which  is  the  only  proof  that  the  philoso- 
phers produce,  or  can  produce,  of  the  belief  which  accompanies 
perception. 

2.  The  painter  who  conceives  the  face  and  figure  of  an  absent 
friend,  in  order  to  draw  his  picture,  believes,  for  the  moment,  that 
his  friend  is  before  him.  The  belief  is  only  momentary,  for  it  is 
extremely  difficult,  in  our  waking  hours,  to  keep  up  a  steady  and 
undivided  attention  to  any  object  we  conceive  or  imagine  ;  and  as 
soon  as  the  conception  or  imagination  is  over,  the  belief  which  atten- 
ded it  is  at  an  end.  We,  in  fact,  consider  them  as  creations  of  the 
mind,  which  have  no  separate  and  independent  existence,  from  the 
facility  with  which  we  can  rccal  or  dismiss  the  objects  of  these 
powers  at  pleasure.  But  when  the  conceptions  of  the  mind  are 
:;:rcd  steady  and  permanent,  by  being  strongly  associated  with 
*u,y  sensible  impression,  as  when  we  gaze  on  a  magnificent  pros- 
pect, they  command  our  belief  no  less  that  our  actual  perceptions, 
and,  therefore,  if  it  were  possible  for  us,  with  our  eyes  shut,  to  keep 


«KAP.  v.  Of  Conception.  $3 

up  for  a  length  of  time,  the  conception  of  the  immense  extent  of  the 
whole  scene  that  had  formerly  engaged  our  eyes,  \ve  should,  as  long 
as  this  effort  continued,  believe  that  all  the  different  parts  of  which 
it  was  composed,  were  present  to  our  senses. 

148.  The  knowledge  \ve  obtain  by  the  eye,  of  the  tangi- 
ble qualities  of  bodies,  is  the  result  of  a  complex  operation 
of  the  mind  ;  comprehending,  first,  the  perception  of  those 
qualities,   which   are  the  proper  and    original   objects  of 
sight ;  and,  secondly,  the  conception  of  those  tangible  quali- 
ties, of  which  the  original  perceptions  of  sight  are  found 
from  experience  to  be  the  signs. 

Carol.  The  notions,  therefore,  we  form  by  means  of  the  eye,  of 
the  tangible  qualities  of  bodies,  and  of  the  distances  of  these  ob: 
jects  from  the  organ,  are  mere  conceptions  ;  strongly  and  indeed 
indissolubly,  associated,  by  early  and  constant  habit,  with  the 
original  perceptions  of  sight. 

149.  The  effects  which  exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress 
produce  on  the  mind,  may  all  be  resolved  into  the  concep- 
tions we  have,  for  the  moment,  that  the  whole  is  real. 

Illus.  1  During  the  representation  of  a  tragedy,  we  have  a  gen- 
eral conviction  that  the  whole  is  a  fiction  ;  but,  I  believe,  no 
person  ever  witnessed  Mrs.  Siddons,  Miss  O'Neill,  Mr.  John  Kem- 
ble,  and  Mr.  Kean,  in  tragedy,  who  did  not  partake  in  the  emotions 
which  those  artists  created ;  who  did  not  entertain  a  momentary 
belief  that  the  distresses,  which  were  but  fictitious,  were  actually 
real.  But  whence  arose  this  belief?  whence  the  conception  ? — 
but  from  the  contagion  spread  by  the  faithful  expression  of  the 
passions. 

2.  The  emotions  produced  by  tragedy  are,  thence,  analogous  to 
the  dread  we  feel  when  we  look  down  from  the  battlements  of  a 
tower ; — or  the  horror  which  seizes  a  person,  who,  fleeing  from  a 
conflagration,  escapes  from  the  top  of  a  house,  by  a  path,  which? 
at  another  time,  he  would  have  considered  as  impracticable  ; — or  to 
the  astonishment  of  soldiers,  who,  in  mounting  a  breach,  have 
found  their  way  to  the  enemy,  by  a  route  which  appeared  inacces- 
sible after  their  violent  passions  had  subsided.  We  have  a  general 
conviction  that  there  is  no  ground  for  the  feelings  which  we  expe- 
ri^nce  during  the  representation  of  a  tragedy,  or  when  we  look 
down  from  the  battlements  of  a  tower,  any  more  than  the  person 
who  has  escaped  from  the  fire  has  to  feel  horror  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  imminent  danger  he  was  in  as  he  traversed  the  hazardous 
path,  or  than  the  soldier's  wonder  at  himself  in  having  scrambled 
by  a  route  the  bare  contemplation  of  which  suspends  his  curiosity 
~o  retrace  his  footsteps. 


66  .#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  ABSTRACTION. 

150.  ABSTRACTION  is  the  faculty  by  which  we  analyse 
the  actual  assemblages   of  nature  into  their  constituent 
parts.     It  is  this  faculty  which  enables  us  to  ascertain 
what  qualities  an  object  has  peculiar  to  itself,  and  what  are 
in  common  to  it,  and  other  objects  of  a  like  nature,  which 
will  therefore  be  referred  to  the  same  class  with  it.     In 
short,  the  whole  process  of  the  formation  of  general  notions 
is  due  to  the  faculty  of  abstraction  alone. 

Obs.  Had  we  possessed  no  such  faculty  as  abstraction,  all  o*r 
knowledge  would  have  been  limited  to  an  acquaintance  with  in- 
dividual being-s  and  individual  facts!  But  the  very  essence  of  sci- 
ence consists  in  generalizing  and  reducing  to  a  few  classes,  or 
general  principles,  the  multitude  of  individual  things  which  every 
branch  of  human  knowledge  embraces.  Hence,  without  abstrac- 
tion, science  would  have  had  no  existence ;  and  the  knowledge 
of  man  would  have  been  like  that  of  the  lower  animals,  in  whom 
no  traces  of  this  faculty  are  discernible ;  circumscribed  to  an  ac- 
quaintance with  those  objects  and  events  in  nature  with  which  he 
was  connected  by  a  regard  to  his  own  knowledge  and  preserva- 
tion. 

151.  It  is  in  the  discovery  of  general  principles,  that  rea- 
son has  its  noblest  exercise.     It  is  generalization  alone  that 
makes  it  possible  for  us  continually  to  go  on  in  scientific 
improvement. 

Obs.  It  is  in  consequence  of  this,  that  at  the  moment  when  a 
multitude  of  particular  solutions  and  of  insulated  facts  begin  to 
distract  the  attention,  and  to  overcharge  the  memory,  the  former 
gradually  lose  themselves  in  one  general  method,  and  the  latter 
unite  in  one  general  law ;  and  that  these  generalizations  contin- 
ually succeeding  one  to  another,  like  the  successive  multiplica- 
tions of  a  number  into  itself,  have  no  other  limit  than  that  infinity 
which  the  human  faculties  are  unable  to  comprehend.  Hence  it 
appears,  that  abstraction  is  completely  subservient  to  all  the  no- 
bler exertions  of  reason ;  to  those,  in  particular,  by  which  man 
has  attained  the  high  distinction  of  being  denominated  a  rational 
animal. 

152.  In  proportion  as  a  man  familiarizes  himself  in  the 
exercise  of  abstraction,  and  accustoms  himself  to  consider 
what  are  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  various 
objects  of  his  contemplation,  and  what  they  have  in  com- 
mon with  others,  does  he  fit  himself  for  scientific  pursuits. 

Obs.  But  it  has  been  supposed  that  the  formation  of  general  prin- 


SHAP.  vi.  Of  Abstraction.  67 

ciples  is  not  entirely  suited  to  the  direction  of  our  conduct  in  the 
more  ordinary  occurrences  of  life;  and  hence  the  origin  of  that  max* 
im  which  has  been  so  industriously  propagated  by  the  dunces  of 
every  age  —  that  a  man  of  genius  is  unfit  for  business  !  But  when 
theoretical  knowledge  and  practical  skill  are  happily  combined  in 
the  same  person,  the  intellectual  power  of  man  appears  in  its  fuJU 
perfection,  and  fits  Ijim  equally  to  conduct  with  a  masterly  hand  the 
duties  of  ordinary  business,  and  to  contend  successfully  with  the 
untried  difficulties  of  new  and  hazardous  situations. 
I.  Of  .Abstract  or  general  Terms. 

153.  The  words  we  use  in  language  are  either  general 
words,  or  proper  names.     Proper  .names  belong  to  indi- 
viduals, as  George,  London,  Thames  ;  common  names,  or 
general  words,  are  not  appropriated  to  signify  any  one  in- 
dividual thing,  but  are  equally  related  to  many  ;  as  man, 
horse,  star. 

Obs.  Under  general  words  are  comprehended  not  only  those 
which  the  logicians  call  general  terms  :  that  is  to  say,  such  words 
as  may  make  the  subject  or  the  predicate  of  a  proposition,  but  like- 
wise their  auxiliaries  or  accessories,  such  as  prepositions,  conjunc- 
tions, articles,  which  are  all  general  words,  though  they  cannot  pro* 
perly  be  called  general  terms. 

154.  In  every  language,  rude  or  polished,  general  words 
make  the  greatest  part,  and  proper  names  the  least.     Gram- 
marians have  reduced  all  words  to  eight  or  nine  classes, 
which  are  called  parts  of  speech. 


us.  Proper  names  are  found  only  among  nouns.  All  verbs, 
participles,  pronouns,  conjunctions,  interjections  and  articles,  are 
general  terms.  Of  nouns  all  adjectives  are  general,  and  the  greater 
part  of  substantives.  Every  substantive  that  has  a  plural  number, 
is  a  general  word  ;  for  no  proper  name  can  have  a  plural  number, 
because  it  signifies  only  one  individual.  Custom,  however,  hath 
made  a  few  proper  names  plural,  but  the  position  we  have  laid 
down  is  not  overthrown  by  an  exception.  In  all  the  books  of  Eu- 
clid's Elements,  there  is  not  one  word  that  is  not  general. 

Obs.  At  the  same  time,  we  observe,  that  all  the  objects'  which 
we  perceive  are  individuals.  Every  object  of  sense,  of  memory, 
or  of  consciousness,  is  an  individual.  All  the  good  things  we  de- 
sire or  enjoy,  and  all  the  evils  we  feel  or  fear,  must  come  from 
individuals. 

155.  The  reason  why  proper  names  make  but  a  very 
small  and  inconsiderable  part  of  a  language,  is,  that  these 
names  are  local,  and  having  no  names  answering  to  them 
in  other  languages,  are  not  accounted  a  part  of  the  lan- 
guage, any  more  than  the  customs  of  a  hamlet  are  accoun- 
ted part  of  the  law  of  the  nation,  much  less  of  the  whole 
human  family.  For  this  reason  there  are  but  few  proper 
names  belonging  to  a  language. 


68  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  it, 

156.  And  the  reason  why  general  words  make  the  great- 
est prvt  of  every  language,  may  be  easily  accounted  for  by 
the  following  illustrations. 

Illus.  1.  Every  individual  that  falls  within  our  view  has  various 
attributes  ;  and  it  is  by  these  that  it  becomes  useful  or  hurtful  to 
us.  We  know  not  the  essence  of  any  individual  object.  All  the 
knowledge  we  can  gain  of  it  is  the  knowledge  of  its  attributes,  its 
quantity,  its  various  relations  to  other  things,  its  place,  its  situa- 
lion,  its  motions.  It  is  by  such  attributes  of  things  only  that  we 
communicate  our  knowledge  of  them  to  others.  By  their  attri- 
butes, our  hopes  and  fears  from  them  are  regulated :  and  it  is 
only  by  attention  to  their  attributes  that  we  can  mr,ke  them 
subservient  to  our  ends ;  and  therefore  we  give  names  to  such 
attributes. 

2.  Now  all  attributes  must,  from  their  nature,  be  expressed  by 
general  words,  and  are  so  expressed  in  all  languages.     Anciently 
attributes  were,  in  general,  expressed  by  two  names  which  ex- 
press their  nature.     They  were  called  universals,   because  they 
might  belong  equally  to  many  individuals,  and  are  not  confined  to 
one.     They  were  also  called  predicables,  because  whatever  is  predi- 
cated, that  is,  affirmed  or  denied  of  one  subject,  may  be  affirmed 
or  denied  of  more  than  one,  and  is,  therefore,  an  universal,  and  ex- 
pressed by  a  general  word.     A  predicable.  therefore,  signifies  the 
same  thing  as  an  attribute,  with  this  difference  only,   that  the  first 
word  is  Latin,  the  last  English.     The  attributes  which  we  find 
either  in  the  works  of  nature,  or  of  human  ingenuity,  are  common 
to  many  individuals.     We  either  find  them  to  be  so,  or  presume 
them  to  be  so,  and  give  them  the  same  name  in  every  subject  ta 
which  they  belong. 

3.  There  are  not  only  attributes  belonging  to  individual   sub- 
jects, but  there  are  likewise  attributes  of  attributes,  which  may  be 
called  secondary  attributes.     Most  attributes  are  capable  of  differ- 
ent degrees  and  different  modifications,  which  must  be  expressed 
by  general  wopds. 

Example.  Thus,  it  is  an  attribute  of  many  bodies  to  be  moved, 
hut  motion  may  be  in  an  endless  variety  of  directions.  It  may  be 
quick,  or  slow,  rectilineal  or  curvilineal ;  it  may  be  equable,  accel- 
^ rated,  or  retarded. 

CoroL  As  all  attributes,  therefore,  whether  primary  or  secondary, 
are  expressed  by  general  words,  it  follows,  that  in  every  proposi- 
tion which  we  express  in  language,  what  is  affirmed  or  denied  of 
the  subject  of  the  proposition,  must  be  expressed  by  general 
words.  And  that  the  subject  of  the  proposition  may  often  be  a 
general  word,  will  appear  from  the  next  illustration. 

Ulus.  4.  The  same  faculties  by  which  we  distinguish  the  differ- 
ent attributes  belonging  to  the  same  subject,  and  give  names  to 
them,  enable  us  likewise  to  observe,  that  many  subjects  agree  in 
certain  attributes,  while  they  differ  in  others.  By  this  means  we 
are  enabled  to  reduce  individuals  which  are  infinite,  to  a  limited 
number  of  classes,  which  are  all  kinds  or  sorts,  and,  in  tb; 
tic  dialect,  these  are  called. general  specie?, 


CHAP.  vi.  Of  Abstraction.  69 

157.  Observing  many  individuals  to  agree  in  certain  at 
tributes,  we  refer  them  all  to  one  class,  and  give  a  name 
to  the  class.     This  name  comprehends  in  its  signification, 
not  one  attribute  only,  but  all  the  attributes  which  distin- 
guish that  class,  and  by  affirming  this  name  of  any  indi- 
vidual, we  affirm  it  to  have  all  the  attributes  which  charac- 
terize the  class. 

Illus.  Thus,  men,  dogs,  horses,  elephants,  are  so  many  different 
classes  of  animals.  In  like  manner  we  marshal  other  substances, 
vegetable  and  inanimate,  into  classes  ;  as,  oaks,  elms,  firs ;  earths, 
minerals.  We  form  also  into  classes,  qualities,  relations,  actions, 
affections,  and  passions,  and  all  other  things. 

158.  When  a  class  is  very  large,  it  is  divided  into  sub- 
ordinate classes ;  the  higher  class  being  called  a  genus  or 
kind ;  the  lower  a  species,  or  sort  of  the  higher.     Some- 
times a  species  is  still  subdivided  into  subordinate  species ; 
and  this  subdivision  is  carried  on  as  far  as  is  found  con- 
venient for  the  purpose  of  language,  or  for  the  improve- 
ment of  knowledge. 

Illus.  In  this  distribution  of  thing's  into  genera  and  species,  it  is 
evident  that  the  name  of  the  species  comprehends  more  attributes 
than  the  name  of  the  genus.  The  species  comprehends  all  that  is 
in  the  genus,  and  those  attributes  likewise  which  distinguish  that 
species  from  others  belonging  to  the  same  genus ;  and  the  more 
such  divisions  we  make,  the  names  of  the  lower  become  still  the 
more  comprehensive  in  their  signification,  but  the  less  extensive  in 
their  application  to  individuals. 

Carol.  Hence  it  is  an  axiom  in  logic,  that  the  more  extensive 
any  general  term  is,  it  is  the  less  comprehensive  ;  and  on  the  con- 
trary, the  more  comprehensive,  the  less  extensive. 

Example.  In  the  following  series  of  subordinate  general  terms, 
animal,  man,  Frenchman,  Parisian,  every  subsequent  term  com- 
prehends in  its  signification,  all  that  is  in  the  pi'eceding,  and 
something  more  ;  and  every  antecedent  term  extends  to  more  indi* 
viduals  than  the  subsequent. 

159.  Every  genus,  and  every  species  of  things,  may  be 
either  the  subject  or  the  predicate  of  a  proposition,  nay  of 
innumerable  propositions;  for  every  attribute  common  to 
the  genus  or  species,  may  be  affirmed  of  it ;  and  the  genus 
may  be  affirmed  of  every  species,  and  both  genus  and  spe- 
cies of  every  individual  to  which  it  extends. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  of  man,  it  may  be  affirmed,  that  he  is  an  animal 
made  up  of  body  and  mind ;  that  he  is  of  few  days  and  full  of 
trouble  ;  that  he  is  capable  of  various  improvements  in  arts,  in 
knowledge,  and  in  virtue.  In  a  word,  every  thing  common  to  the 
species  may  be  affirmed  of  man;  and  of  all  such  propositions, 
which  are  innumerable,  man  is  the  subject. 
7* 


70  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  u* 

2.  Again,  of  every  nation  and  tribe,  and  of  every  individual  of 
the  human  race  that  is,  that  was,  or  that  shall  be,  it  may  be  affir- 
med that  they  are  men.  In  all  such  propositions,  which  are  innu- 
merable, man  is  the  predicate  of  the  proposition. 

Obs.  We  have  observed  above  an  extension  and  comprehen- 
sion of  general  terms ;  and  that  in  any  subdivision  of  things,  the 
name  of  the  lowest  species  }is  most  comprehensive,  and  that  of 
the  highest  genus  most  extensive ;  we  shall  now  see  that,  by 
means  of  such  general  terms,  there  is  also  an  extension  and  com- 
prehension of  propositions  which  is  one  of  the  noblest  powers  of 
language,  and  fits  it  for  expressing,  with  great  ease  and  expedi- 
tion, the  highest  attainments  in  knowledge  of  which  the  human 
understanding  is  capable. 

160.  When  the  predicate  is  a  genus  or  a  species,  the 
proposition  is  more  or  less  comprehensive,  according  as  the 
predicate  is  so. 

Illns.  Thus,  when  I  say,  that  this  seal  is  gold,  by  this  single  pro- 
position I  affirm  of  it  all  the  properties  which  that  metal  is  known 
to  have.  When  I  say  of  any  man,  that  he  is  a  mathematician,  this 
appellation  comprehends  all  the  attributes  that  belong  to  him  as  an 
animal,  as  a  man,  and  as  one  who  has  studied  mathematics,  When 
I  say,  that  the  orbit  of  the  planet  ^Mercury  is  an  ellipse,  I  thereby  affirm 
of  that  orbit  all  the  properties  which  Apollonius  or  other  geometri- 
cians have  discovered,  or  which  may  be  discovered,  of  that  species 
of  figure. 

161.  Again,  when  the  subject  of  a  proposition  is  a  genus 
or  a  species,  the  proposition  is  more  or  less  extensive,  ac- 
cording as  the  subject  is. 

Illus.  Thus,  when  I  am  taught,  that-tfe  three  angles  of  a  plane  tri- 
angle are  equal  to  two  right  angles  ;  this  proposition  extends  to  eve- 
ry species  of  plane  triangle,  and  to  every  individual  plane  triangle 
which  has  existed,  which  does  exist,  or  which  can  exist. 

Obs.  Such  extensive  and  comprehensive  propositions  condense 
human  knowledge,  and  adapt  it  to  the  capacity  of  our  minds  with 
great  addition  to  its  beauty,  Mid  without  any  diminution  to  its  dis- 
tinctness and  perspicuity. 

II.  Of  General  Conceptions. 

1 62.  Words  could  have  no  general  signification,  unless 
ihere  had  beien  conceptions  in  the  minds  of  those  who  used 
them,  of  things  that  are  general ;  and  it  is  to  such  that  we 
give  the  names  of  general  conceptions.    These  conceptions 
take  this  denomination,  not  from  the  act  of  the  mind  in 
conceiving,  which  is  an  individual  act,  but  from  the  object 
or  thing  conceived,  which  is  gevieral. 

163.  Genera!    conceptions   are   expressed    by  general 
terms,  that  is,  by  such  general  words  as  may  be  the  subject 
or  the  predicate  of  a  proposition;  and  these  terms  areei- 


CHAP.  vi.  Of  Abstraction.  Tl 

ther  attributes  of  things,  or  they  signify  genera  or  species 
of  things. 

164.  We  have  a  more  distinct  conception  of  the  attri- 
butes of  all  the  individuals  with  which  we  are  acquainted, 
than  of  the  subject  to  which  those  attributes  belong. 

lUus.  1.  The  conception  that  we  form  of  any  individual  body 
\ve  have  access  to  know,  is,  that  it  has  length,  breadth,  and  thick- 
ness ;  such  a  figure,  and  such  a  colour ;  that  it  is  hard,  or  soft,  or 
fluid; — that  it  has  such  qualities,  and  is  fit  for  such  purposes. 
If  it  is  a  vegetable,  we  may  know  where  it  grows,  what  is  the  form 
of  its  leaves,  and  flower  and  seed.  If  an  animal,  what  are  its  na- 
tural instincts,  its  manner  of  life,  and  of  rearing  its  young.  Of 
these  attributes  belonging  to  this  individual  and  numberless  others, 
we  may  surely  have  a  distinct  conception  ;  and  we  shall  find 
words  in  language  by  which  we  can  clearly  and  distinctly  express 
them. 

2.  If  we  consider,  in  like  manner,  the  conception  that  we  form 
of  any  individual  person  of  our  acquaintance,  we  shall  find  it  to  be 
made  up  of  various  attributes,  which  we  ascribe  to  him ;  such  as, 
that  he  is  the  son  of  such  a  man,  the  brother  of  such  another,  that 
he  has  such  an  employment  or  office,  such  a  fortune,  that  he  is  tall 
or  short,  well  or  ill  made,  comely  or  ill  favoured,  young  or  old, 
married  or  unmarried ;  to  this  we  may  add,  his  temper,  his  cha- 
racter, his  abilities,  and  perhaps  some  anecdotes  of  his  history. 
Such  is  the  conception  we  form  of  individual  persons  of  our  ac- 
quaintance ;  by  such  attributes  we  describe  them  to  those  who 
know  them  not ;  and  by  such  attributes  historians  give  us  a  con- 
ception of  the  personages  of  former  times  :  nor  is  it  possible  to 
describe  them  in  any  other  way. 

Corol.  All  the  distinct  knowledge  we  have  or  can  have  of  any 
individual,  is  the  knowledge  of  its  attributes,  for  we  know  not 
the  essence  of  any  individual ;  and  indeed  this  seems  to  be  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  human  faculties. 

165.  Now  every  attribute  is  what  the  ancients  called  an 
universal.     It  is  or  may  be,  common  to  various  individu- 
als ;    and,  on  this  account,  attributes  are  expressed  by 
general  words. 

Obs.  1.  It  appears  likewise,  from  every  man's  experience,  that 
he  may  have  as  clear  and  distinct  a  conception  of  such  attributes  as 
we  have  named,  and  of  innumerable  others,  as  he  can  have  of  any 
individual  to  which  they  belong. 

2.  Indeed,  all  that  we  distinctly  conceive  about  individuals  is  a- 
bout  their  attributes.  It  is  true  we  conceive  a  subject  to  which 
they  belong ;  but  of  this  subject,  whether  it  be  body  or  mind,  when 
its  attributes  are  set  aside,  we  have  but  an  obscure  and  relative 
conception. 

166.  The  other  class  of  general  terms  are  those  that 
signify  the  genera  and  species,  into  which  we  divide  and 


72  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11* 

subdivide  things.  And  if  we  be  able  to  form  distinct  con- 
ceptions of  attributes,  it  cannot  surely  be  denied  that  we 
have  distinct  conceptions  of  genera  and  species ;  because 
they  are  only  collections  of  attributes,  which  we  conceive 
to  exist  in  a  subject,  and  to  which  we  give  a  general  name. 
If  the  attributes  comprehended  under  that  general  name  be 
distinctly  conceived,  the  thing  meant  by  the  name  must  be 
distinctly  conceived  ;  and  the  name  may  be  justly  attribu- 
ted to  every  individual  that  has  those  attributes. 

film.  Thus,  w.e  can  conceive  distinctly  what  it  is  to  have  wings, 
to  be  covered  with  feathers,  to  lay  egg's.  Suppose  then  we  give 
the  name  of  bird  to  every  animal  that  has  these  three  attributes. 
And  if  this  be  admitted  to  be  the  definition  of  a  bird,  there  is  noth- 
ing' that  we  can  conceive  more  distinctly ;  for  undoubtedly  our  con- 
ception of  the  animal  is  as  distinct  as  our  notion  of  the  attributes 
which  are  common  to  the  species.  If  we  had  never  seen  a  bird, 
and  can  but  be  made  to  understand  the  definition,  we  can  easily  ap- 
ply it,  without  danger  of  mistake,  to  every  individual  of  the  species. 

167.  When  things  are  divided  and  subdivided  by  men 
of  science,   and  names  given  to  the  genera  and  species, 
those  names  are  defined. 

Illus.  Thus,  the  genera  and  species  of  plants,  and  of  other  natu- 
ral bodies,  are  accurately  defined  by  writers  in  the  various  bran- 
ches of  natural  history;  so  that,  to  all  future  generations,  the  defi- 
nition will  convey  a  distinct  notion  of  the  genus  or  species  defined. 

168.  When  we  meet  with  words  signifying  genera  and 
species  of  things,  which  have  a  meaning  somewhat  vague 
and  indistinct ;  so  that  they  who  speak  the  same  language 
do  not  always  use  them  in  the  same  sense ;  we  may  rest  as- 
sured that  there  is  no  definition  of  them  which  has  au- 
thority. 

Illus.  Thus,  a  man  may  know,  that  when  he  applies  the  name  of 
beast  to  a  lion  or  a  tiger  ;  and  the  name  of  bird  to  an  eagle  or  a  tur- 
key, he  speaks  properly  ;  but  whether  a  bat  be  a  bird  or  a  beast,  he 
may  be  uncertain.  If  of  a  beast  and  of  a  bird  there  was  any  accu- 
rate definition,  of  sufficient  authority,  he  could  be  at  no  loss.  And, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  legislators  have  seldom  or  never  thought  fit 
to  give  the  definition  of  a  man. 

Carol.  A  genus  or  species  being  a  collection  of  attributes,  conceiv- 
ed to  exist  in  one  subject,  a  definition  is  therefore  the  only  way  to 
prevent  any  addition  or  diminution  of  its  ingredients  in  the  concep- 
tion of  different  persons,  and  when  there  is  no  definition  that  can  be 
appealed  to  as  a  standard,  the  name  will  hardly  retain  precision  in 
its  signification. 

169.  To  conceive  the  meaning  of  a  general  word,  and  to  con- 
ceive that  which  it  signifies,  is  the  same  thing.  We  conceive 


•HAP.  vi.  Of  Abstraction.  73 

distinctly  the  meaning  of  general  terms,  therefore  we  con- 
ceive distinctly  that  which  they  signify.  But  such  terms  do 
not  signify  any  individual,  but  what  is  common  to  many  in- 
dividuals :  therefore,  we  have  a  distinct  conception  of  things 
common  to  many  individuals : — that  is,  we  have  distinct  ge- 
neral conceptions. 

170.  We  must  here  beware  of  the  ambiguity  that  is  some- 
times thrown  around  the  word  conception  in  popular  lan- 
guage, which  sometimes  makes  it  signify  the  act  of  the  mind 
in  conceiving^  sometimes  the  thing  conceived,  which  is  the 
object  of  that  act.     When  the  word  is  taken  in  the  first 
sense,  every  act  of  the  mind  is  an  individual  act :  the  uni- 
versality, therefore,  is  not  in  the  act  of  the  mind,  but  in  the 
object,  or  thing  conceived.     The  tiling  conceived  is  an  attri- 
bute common  to  many  subjects,  or  it  is  a  genus  or  a  species 
common  to  many  individuals. 

I  Hits.  Suppose  we  conceive  a  triangle  ;  that  is,  a  plane  figure  ter- 
minated by  three  right  lines.  He  that  understands  this  definition 
distinctly,  has  a  distinct  conception  of  a  triangle.  But  a  triangle  is 
not  an  individual ;  it  is  a  species.  The  act  of  my  mind  in  conceiv- 
ing it  is  an  individual  act,  and  has  a  real  existence ;  but  the  thing 
conceived  is  general,  and  cannot  exist  without  other  attributes, 
which  are  not  included  in  the  definition.  Every  triangle  that  real- 
ly exists  must  have  a  certain  length  of  sides  and  measure  of  angles ; 
it  must  besides  have  place  and  time  }  but  the  definition  of  a  trian- 
gle includes  neither  existence,  nor  any  of  those  attributes;  and 
therefore  they  are  not  included  in  the  conception  of  a  triangle, 
which  cannot  be  accurate  if  it  comprehended  more  than  the  defi- 
nition. 

Corol.  Thus,  it  appears  to  be  evident,  that  we  have  general  con- 
ceptions that  are  clear  and  distinct,  both  of  attributes  of  things  and 
of  genera  and  species  of  things.  • 

III.  Of  general  Conceptions  formed  by  analyzing  objects. 

171.  The    operations  of  the   mind,    by  which   we  are 
enabled  to  form  general  conceptions,  appear  to  be  three : 

First.  The  resolving  or  analyzing  a  subject  into  its 
known  attributes,  and  giving  a  name  to  each  attribute, 
which  name  shall  signify  that  attribute,  and  nothing  more. 

Secondly.  The  observing  of  one  attribute,  or  more  attri- 
butes than  one,  to  be  common  to  many  objects.  The  first 
is  by  philosophers  called  abstraction;  the  second  may  be 
called  generalizing;  but  both  are  commonly  included"  un- 
der the  name  of  abstraction. 

A  third  operation  of  the  mind,  bv  which  we  form  abstract 
conceptions,  is  the  combining  into  one  whole  a  certain  num- 
ber of  those  attributes  of  which  we  have  formed  abstract  no  ~ 


74  A  @raininar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in 

tions,  and  giving  a  name  to  that  combination.  It  is  thus 
we  form  abstract  notions  of  the  genera  and  species  ol 
things. 

172.  There  is  nothing  with  regard  to  abstraction,  strictly 
so  called,  that  is  either  difficult  to  be  understood  or  prac- 
tised. 

Illus.  What  can  be  more  easy  than  to  distinguish  the  different  at- 
tributes which  we  know  to  belong  to  any  subject?  In  a  man,  fox 
instance,  to  distinguish  his  size,  his  complexion,  his  age,  his  fortune, 
his  birth,  his  profession,  and  twenty  other  things  that  belong  to 
him.  To  think  and  speak  of  those  things  with  understanding,  is 
surely  within  the  reach  of  every  man  endowed  with  human  facul- 
ties. 

173.  There  may  be  distinctions  that  require  nice  dis- 
cernment, or  an  acquaintance  with  the  subject  that  is  not 
common. 

Illus.  Thus,  a  critic  in  painting  may  discern  the  style  of  Raphael 
er  Titian,  when  another  man  could  not.  A  lawyer  may  be  acquain- 
ted with  many  distinctions  in  crimes,  and  contracts,  and  actions, 
which  never  entered  the  head  of  a  man  who  has  not  studied  law. 
One  man  may  excel  another  in  the  talent  of  distinguishing,  as  he 
may  in  memory  or  in  reasoning ;  but  there  is  a  certain  degree  ol 
this  talent,  without  which  a  man  could  have  no  title  to  be  conside- 
red a  reasonable  creature. 

174.  We  may  in   our  conception,  with  perfect  ease, 
distinguish  and  disjoin  attributes,  which  cannot  be  actual- 

.ly  separated  in  the  subject. 

Illus.  Thus,  in  a  body,  we  can  distinguish  its  solidity  from  its 
extension,  and  its  weight  from  both.  In  extension,  we  can  distin- 
guish length,  breadth,  and  thickness,  yet  none  of  these  can  be 
separated  from  the  body,  or  from  one  another. 

175.  There  may  be  attributes  belonging  to  a  subject,  and 
inseparable  from  it,  of  which  we  have  no  knowledge,  and 
consequently  no  conception ;  but  this  does  not  hinder  us 
from  conceiving  distinctly  those  of  its  attributes  which  we 
do  know. 

Illus.  Thus,  all  the  properties  of  a  circle  are  inseparable  from 
the  nature  of  a  circle,  and  may  be  demonstrated  from  its  defini- 
tion ;  yet  a  man  may  have  a  perfectly  distinct  notion  of  a  circle, 
who  knows  very  few  of  those  properties  belonging  to  it  which 
mathematicians  have  described :  and  a  circle  has,  probably,  many 
properties  which  mathematicians  never  dreamed  of. 

Corol.  It  is  therefore  certain,  that  attributes,  which,  in  their  na- 
ture are  absolutely  inseparable  from  their  subject,  and  from  one 
another,  may  be  disjoined  in  our  conception;  one  cannot  exist 
without  the  other,  but  one  can  be  conceived  without  the  other. 


WRAP.  vr.  Of  Abstraction.  75 

IV.  Of  the  Operation  of  Generalizing. 

176.  We  proceed  now  to  consider  the  operation  of  gen- 
eralizing,  which  is  nothing  but  the  observing  of  one  attri- 
bute, or  more  attributes  man  one,  to  be  common  to  many 
subjects. 

filus.  There  are  many  men  above  six  feet  high,  and  many  below 
that  height ;  many  men  are  rich,  many  poor ;  many  born  in  Bri- 
tain, many  born  in  France.  But  here,  size,  fortune,  and  country, 
are  attributes.  There  are,  therefore,  innumerable  attributes  which 
are  common  to  many  individuals;  and  if  this  be  what  the  school- 
men called  universale  a  parte  ra,  we  may  affirm,  with  certainty, 
that  there  are  such  universals. 

177.  There  are  some  attributes  expressed  by  general 
words,  and  of  these,  this  position  may  seem  more  doubt- 
ful ;  as,  for  instance,  the  qualities  which  are  inherent  in 
their  several  subjects.     It  may  be  said  that  every  subject 
hath  its  own  qualities,  and  that  which  is  the  quality  of  one 
subject  cannot  be  the  quality  of  another  subject. 

Him.  1.  Thus,  the  whiteness  of  the  sheet  of  paper  that  I  write 
upon  cannot  be  the  whiteness  of  another  sheet,  though  both  are 
called  white.  The  weight  of  one  guinea  is  not  the  weight  of 
another  guinea,  though  both  are  said  to  have  the  same  weight. 

2.  To  this  we  answer,  that  the  whiteness  of  this  sheet  vis  one 
thing,  whiteness  is  another  ;  the  first  signifies  an  individual  quality 
really  existing,  and  is  not  a  general  conception,  though  it  be  an 
abstract  one  ;  the  second  signifies  a  general  conception,  which  im- 
plies no  existence^  but  which,  in  the  same  sense,  may  be  predicated 
every  thing  that  is  white. 

3.  On  this  account,  if  any  one  should  say,  that  the  whiteness  of 
this  sheet  is  the  whiteness  of  another  sheet,  every  one  perceives 
this  to  be  absurd ;  but  when  he  says  both  sheets  are  white,  this  is 
true  and  perfectly  understood.      The  conception  of  whiteness  im- 
plies no  existence ;  it  would  remain  the  same,  though  every  thing 
in  the  universe  that  is  white  were  annihilated. 

Corol.  1.  It  appears,  therefore,  that  the  general  names  of  quali- 
ties, as  well  as  of  other  attributes,  are  applicable  to  many  indviduals 
in  the  same  sense,  which  cannot  be  if  there  be  not  general  concep- 
tions signified  by  such  names. 

2.  It  appears  further,  that,  since  no  individual  can  have  a  plural 
number,  (Jlrt.  154.  Illus.J  as  soon  as  a  child  can  say  with  under- 
standing, that  he  has  two  brothers  or  two  sisters  ;  as  soon  as  he  can 
use  the  plural  number,  50  soon  must  he  have  general  conceptions. 

178.  As  there  are  not  two  individuals  in  nature  that  a- 
gree  in  every  thing,  so  there  are  very  few  that  do  not  agree 
in  some  things. 

Illus.  1.  We  take  pleasure  from  our  earliest  years,  in  observing* 
such  agreements ;  and  one  branch  of  what  we  call  -wit,  which,  when 
innocent,  gives  pleasure  to  every  good  man,  consists  in  discovering1 


7"6  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

unexpected  agreements  in  thing's.     Thus,  the  author  of  Hudibras 
could  discern  a  property  common  to  the  morning  and  a  boiled  lob' 
.   stery  which  both  turn  from  black  to  red.     And  Swift  could  see  some- 
thing1 common  to  -wit  and  an  old  cheese.     (See  Art.  213.  Illus. J 

2.  Such  agreements  may  shew  wit ;  but  there  are  innumerable 
agreements  of  things  which  cannot  escape  the  notice  of  the  lowest 
understanding ;  such  as  agreements  in  colour,  magnitude,  figure, 
features,  time,  place,  age,  and  so  forth.  And  these  agreements  are 
the  foundation  of  so  many  common  attributes,  which  are  found  in 
the  rudest  languages. 

179.  The  ancient  philosophers  called  those  imiversals,  or 
predicates,  and  endeavoured  to  reduce  them  to  five  clas- 
ses :  namely,  genus,  species,  specific  difference,  properties, 
and  accidents. 

180.  The  proneness  of  mankind  to  form  general  concep- 
tions, is  seen  from  the  case  of  metaphor  and  of  the  other  fig- 
ures of  speech,  grounded  on  similitude. 

Illus.  Similitude  is  nothing  else  but  an  agreement  of  the  objects 
compared  in  one  or  more  attributes ;  and  if  there  be  no  attribute 
common  to  both,  there  can  be  no  similitude.  (See  JBook  IV.  of  my 
Grammar  of  Rhetoric  for  a  complete  illustration  of  this  matter.) 

181.  Sometimes  the  name  of  an  individual  is  given  to  a 
general  conception,  and  thus  the  name  of  an  individual,  by 
being  applied  to  his  attributes,  instead  of  his  person,  be- 
comes generalized. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  Shylock,  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  says  : 
A  Daniel  come  to  judgment ;  yea,  a  Daniel ! 

In  this  speech  a  Daniel  is  an  attribute,  or  an  universal. 

2.  And  when  we  say  of  any  eminent  mathematician  or  astrono- 
mer, that  "  he  is  a  Newton  ;"  we  generalize  the  name  of  the  indi- 
vidual Newton ;  and  it  thus  becomes  an  attribute  or  universal. 

3.-  In  the  first  example,  the  character  of  Daniel,  as  a  man  of  sin- 
gular wisdom  ;  and  in  the  second,  that  of  Newton,  as  an  eminent 
mathematician  or  astronomer,  is  abstracted  from  his  person,  and 
considered  as  capable  of  being  attributed  to  other  persons. 

182.  Upon  the  whole,  these  two  operations  of  abstracting 
and  generalizing,  appear  to  be  common  to  all  men  that  have 
understanding.      The  practice  of  them  is,  and  must  be,  fa- 
miliar to  every  man  that  uses  language ;  but  it  is  one  thing 
to  practice  them,  and  another  to  explain  how  they  are  per- 
formed ;  as  it  is  one  thing  to  see,  and  another  to  explain 
how  we  do  see. 

Illus.  Thus,  when  I  consider  a  billiard  ball,  its  colour  is  one  attri* 
bute,  which  I  signify  by  calling  it  -white  ,•  its  figure  is  another,  which 
is  signified  by  calling  it  spherical;  the  firm  cohesion  of  its  parts  is 
signified  by  calling  it  hard ;  its  recoiling,  when  it  strikes  a  hard 
body,  is  signified  by  its  being  called  elastic  ,•  its  origin,  being  part 


CHAP.  vi.  Of  Abstraction,  ft 

of  the  tooth  of  an  elephant,  is  signified  by  calling"  it  ivory ;  and  its 
use,  by  calling-  it  a  billiard  ball. 

Carol.  The  words  whereby  each  of  those  attributes  is  signified, 
have  distinct  meanings,  and  under  these  meanings  they  are  appli- 
cable to  many  individuals.  They  signify  not  any  individual  thing, 
but  attributes  common  to  many  individuals;  and  it  is  within  the 
capacity  of  a  child  to  understand  them  perfectly,  and  to  apply  them 
properly  to  every  individual  in  which  they  are  found. 

V.  General  Conceptions  formed  by  Combinations. 
183.  As,  by  an  intellectual  analysis  of  objects,  we  form 
general  conceptions  of  single  attributes,  (which,  of  all  con- 
ceptions that  enter  into  the  human  mind,  are  the  most 
simple,)  so,  by  combining  several  of  these  into  one  parcel, 
arid  giving  a  name  to  that  combination,  we  form  general  con- 
ceptions that  may  be  very  complex,  and  at  the  same  time 
very  distinct. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  one  who  by  analysing  extended  objects,  has  got 
the  simple^  notions  of  a  point,  a  line — straight  or  curved — an  angle, 
a  surface,  a  solid,  can  easily  conceive  a  plane  surface  terminated  by 
four  equal  straight  lines,  meeting  in  four  points  at  right  angles. 
To  this  species  of  figure  he  gives  the  name  of  a  square.  In  like 
manner,  he  can  conceive  a  solid  terminated  by  six  equal  squares, 
and  give  it  the  name  of  a  cube.  A  square,  a  cube,  and  every  name 
of  mathematical  figure,  is  a  general  term,  expressing  a  complex 
general  conception,  made  by  a  certain  combination  of  the  simple 
elements  into  which  we  analyse  extended  bodies.  The  definition 
contains  the  whole  essence  of  the  figure  defined ;  and  every  pro- 
perty that  belongs  to  it  may  be  deduced  by  demonstrative  reason- 
ing from  the  definition.  It  is  not  a  thing  that  exists,  for  then  it 
would  be  an  individual ;  but  it  is  a  thing  that  is  conceived  without 
regard  to  existence. 

2.  A  farm,  a  manor,  a  parish,  a  county,  a  kingdom,  are  complex 
general  conceptions,  formed  ,by  various  combinations  and  modifi- 
cations of  inhabited  territory,  under  certain  forms  of  government. 

3.  Different  combinations  of  military  men  form  the  notions  of  a 
company,  a  regiment,  a  brigade,  an  army. 

4.  The  several  crimes  which  are  the  objects  of  criminal  law, 
such  as  theft,  murder,  robbery,  piracy,   are  only  certain  combina- 
tions of  human  actions  defined  in  criminal  law,   and  which  it  is 
found  convenient  to  apprehend  under  one  name,  and  consider  as 
one  tiling. 

184.  When  we  observe  that  nature,  in  her  animal,  vegeta- 
ble, and  inanimate  productions,  has  formed  many  individuals 
that  agree  in  many  of  their  qualities  and  attributes,  we  are 
led  by  natural  instinct  to  expect  their  agreement  in  other 
qualities,  which  we  have  not  had  occasion  to  perceive. 

Illus.  Thus,  a  child,  who  has  once  burned  his  fin.arer,  by  putting' 
it  in  the  flame  of  a  candle,  expects  the  same  eve*  ***v>  happen  if 

8 


78  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n> 

he  puts  it  in  the  flame  of  another  candle,  or  in  any  flame,  and  is 
thereby  led  to  think  that  the  quality  of  burning'  belongs  to  all 
flame. 

Obs.  This  instinctive  induction  is  not  justified  by  the  rules  of 
logic,  and  it  sometimes  leads  us  into  harmless  mistakes,  which 
experience  may  afterwards  correct ;  but  it  preserves  us  from  innu- 
merable dangers  to  which  we  are  exposed. 

185.  We  have  noticed,  in  this  place,  this  principle  in 
human  nature,  because  the  distribution  of  the  productions 
of  nature  into  genera  and  species  becomes,  on  account  of 
this  principle,  more  generally  useful. 

Illus.  1.  The  physician  expects  that  the  rhubarb  which  has  never 
been  tried  will  have  the  like  medical  virtues  with  that  which  he 
has  prescribed  on  former  occasions.  Two  parcels  of  rhubarb  agree 
in  certain  sensible  qualities,  from  which  agreement  they  are  both 
called  by  the  same  general  name  rhubarb.  Therefore,  it  is  expec- 
ted that  they  will  agree  in  their  medical  virtues.  And  as  experi- 
ence has  discovered  certain  virtues  in  one  parcel,  or  in  many 
parcels,  we  presume,  without  experience,  that  the  same  virtues 
belong  to  all  parcels  of  rhubarb  that  shall  be  used. 

2.  If  a  traveller  meets  a  horse,  an  ox,  or  a  sheep,  which  he  never 
saw  before,  he  is  under  no  apprehension,  believing  these  animals 
to  be  of  a  species  that  is  tame  ;  but  he  dreads  a  lion,  a  bear,  or  a 
tiger,  because  they  are  of  a  fierce  and  ravenous  species. 

CoroL  We  have,  therefore,  a  strong  and  rational  inducement, 
both  to  distribute  natural  substances  into  classes,  genera  and  spe- 
cies, under  general  names  ;  and,  moreover,  to  do  this  with  all  the 
accuracy  and  distinctness  with  which  we  are  capable  :  for  the 
more  accurate  our  divisions  are  made,  and  the  more  distinctly  the 
several  species  are  defined,  the  more  accurately  we  may  rely,  that 
the  several  qualities  which  we  find  in  one  individual,  or  in  a  few 
individuals,  will  be  found  in  all  the  individuals  of  the  same  species. 

186.  Every  species  of  natural  substances,  which  has  a 
name  in  language,  is  an  attribute  of  many  individuals,  and 
is  itself  a  combination  of  more  simple  attributes,  which  we 
observe  to  be  common  to  those  individuals.     And  almost  all 
the  words  of  every  language  signify  combinations  of  more 
simple  general  conceptions,  which  men  have  found  proper 
to  bind  up,  as  it  were,  in  one  parcel,  by  being  designated  bj 
one  name. 

18-7.  There  are,  however,  some  general  conceptions,  which 
may  more  properly  be  called  compositions,  or  works  of  mere 
ccni-.d nation. 

Ill  s.  1.  Thus,  one  may  conceive  a  machine  which  never  exist- 
e/i.  He  may  conceive  an  air  in  music,  a  poem,  a  plan  of  archi- 
tecture, a  constitution  of  goverment,  a  plan  of  conduct  in  private 
or  m  public  life,  a  discourse,  a  tragedy,  a  comedy,  a  treatise  on 
science  or  art.  Such  compositions  are  things  conceived  In 


CHAP,  vi.  Of  M  sir  action.  79 

the  mind  of  the  author,  not  individuals  that  really  exist ;  and  the 
same  general  conception  which  the  author  had,  may  be  communi- 
cated to  others  by  language.  Thus,  the  OCEAIVA  of  Harrington 
was  conceived  in  the  mind  of  its  author.  The  materials  of  which 
it  is  composed,  are  things  conceived,  not  things  that  existed.  His 
senate,  his  popular  assembly,  his  magistrates,  his  elections,  are  all 
conceptions  of  his  mind,  and  the  whole  is  one  complex  conception. 
And  the  same  may  be  said  of  every  work  of  the  human  under- 
standing. 

2.  The  works  of  God,  on  the  contrary,  are  works  of  creative 
power,  not  of  understanding  only.  They  have  a  real  existence. 
Our  conceptions  of  them  are,  however,  partial  and  imperfect. 
But  of  the  works  of  the  human  understanding  our  conception  may 
be  perfect  and  complete.  They  are  nothing  but  what  the  author 
conceived,  and  what  he  can  express  by  language,  so  as  to  convey 
his  conception  perfectly  to  men  like  himself.  But  these  works  of 
the  human  understanding  are  the  objects  of  judgment  and  taste, 
rather  than  of  bare  conception  or  simple  apprehension. 

188.  To  return,  therefore,  to  those  complex  conceptions, 
which  are  formed  merely  by  combining  others  that  are  more 
simple,  let  us  observe,  that  nature  has  given  us  the  power  of 
combining  such  simple  attributes  and  such  a  number  of  them,, 
as  we  find  proper ;  and  of  giving  one  name  to  that  combi- 
nation, and  considering  it  as  one  object  of  thought. 

Illus.  The  simple  attributes  of  things,  which  fall  under  our 
observation,  are  not  so  numerous,  that  they  might  not  all  have 
names  in  a  copious  language  ;  but,  to  give  names  to  all  the  combi- 
nations that  can  be  made  of  two,  three,  or  more  of  those  attributes, 
would  be  impossible.  The  most  copious  languages  have  names 
but  for  a  veiy  small  part  of  them. 

Carol.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  there  are  either  certain, 
common  occurrences  of  human  life,  which  dispose  men,  out  of  an. 
infinite  number  that  might  be  found,  to  form  certain  combinations 
rather  than  others.  And  nature,  in  a  manner,  points  out  those 
simple  ideas  which  are  most  proper  to  be  united  into  a  complex: 
one,  not  solely  by  the  relations  between  simple  ideas,  of  contigu- 
ity, causation,  and  resemblance;  but  rather  by  the  fitness  of  the 
combinations  we  make,  to  aid  our  own  conceptions,  and  to  convey 
them  easily  and  agreeably  to  others  by  written  or  spoken  language. 

189.  The  end  and  use  of  language  lead  men  that  have 
common  understanding  to  form  such  complex  notions  as 
are  proper  for  expressing  their  wants,  their  thoughts,  their 
desires ;  and  in  every  language  we  shall  find  these  to  be  the 
complex  notions  that  have  names. 

Illus.  1.  In  the  rudest  languages,  men  must  have  occasion  to 
form  the  general  notions  of  man,  woman,  father,  mother,  son, 
daughter,  sister,  brother,  neighbour,  friend,  enemy,  and  many 
others,  to  express  the  common  relations  of  one  person  to  another. 

2.  If  they  are  employed  in  hunting  and  fishing,  they  must  have 


£0  i?  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i.u 

general  terms  to  express  the  various  operations  of  the  chace,  the 
stream,  the  lake,  or  the  sea.  Their  houses  and  clothing-  will 
furnish  another  set  of  general  terms,  to  express  the  materials,  the 
workmanship,  and  the  excellencies  and  defects  of  those  fabrics. 

3.  The  arts  of  agriculture  and  pasturage  will  give  occasion  to 
other  general  terms  for  communicating  thoughts  peculiar  to  those 
arts;  and  the  invention  of  those  terms,   as  far  as  the  shepherd  or 
the  farmer  finds  them  necessary,  requires  no  other  talent  but  that 
degree  of  understanding  which  is  common  to  men. 

4.  With   commerce  have   originated  the   notions  of  debtor  and 
creditor,  of  profit  and  loss,  of  account,  balance,  stock  on  hand,  and 
many  other  terms  equally  general. 

5.  To  navigation  are  owing  the  notions  of  latitude,  longitude, 
course,  distance  run,  windward,  leeward  ;  as  well  as  those  notions 
which  we  have  of  ships,  and  their  various  parts,  furniture,  and 
operations. 

6.  The  anatomist  has  his  names  for  the  various  similar  and  dis- 
similar parts  of  the  human  body,  and  worc^s  to  express  their  figure, 
position,  structure,  and  use.     The  physician  must  have  names  also 
for  the  various  diseases  of  the  body,   their  causes,  symptoms,  and 
the  means  of  cure. 

7.  The  grammarian,  the  logician,  the  critic,  the  rhetorician,  the 
moralist,  the  naturalist,  the  mechanic,  and,  in  a  word,   every  man 
that  professes  any  art  or  science,  must  have  general  terms  for 
expressing  his  sentiments  in  every  branch  of  the  knowledge  he 
would  communicate  to  others. 

190.  Discoveries  in  nature,  art,  and  science,  give  rise  to 
new  combinations  and  new  words,  the  invention  of  which  is 
easy  to  those  who  have  a  distinct  notion  of  the  thing  to  be 
expressed ;  and  such  words  are  readily  adopted,  and  receive 
the  public  sanction,  because  the  most  necessary  and  useful 
arts  are  common  property — because  the  important  parts  of 
human  knowledge  are  common  property ;  and,  among  civili- 
zed nations,  their  several  languages  will  be  fitted  to  express 
these  new  complex  notions  and  new   names,   which  will 
spread  as  far  as  the  invention  or  discovery  becomes  known. 

191.  What  is  peculiar  to  a  nation  in  its  customs,  manners, 
or  laws,  will  give  occasion  to  complex  notions  and  words 
peculiar  to  the  language  of  that  nation. 

Jllus.  Hence  it  is  easy  to  see  why  an  impeachment  and  an  attain- 
der in  the  English  language,  and  ostracism  in  the  Greek  language, 
have  not  names  answering  to  them  in  other  languages. 

Corol.  Whence,  it  would  appear,  that  utility,  not  the  associa- 
ting qualities  of  ideas,  (Corol.  Art.  18.)  most  frequently  led  men 
to  form  only  certain  combinations,  and  to  give  names  to  them  in  lan- 
guage, while  they  neglect  an  infinite  number  that  might  be  formed. 

192.  The  common  occurrences  of  life,  in  the  intercourse 
of  men,  and  in  their  occupations,  give  occasion  to  many  com- 
plex notions, 


CHAP,  vi.  Of  Abstraction.  81 

Ilhis.  1.  Thus  men  have  formed  the  complex  notions  of  eating, 
drinking-,  dressing",  sleeping",  walking-,  riding1,  running",  buying", 
Selling",  ploug-hing",  sowing",  a  dance,  a  fair,  a  feast,  a  wedding",  a 
burial,  war,  a  battle,  victory,  triumph,  peace  ;  and  other  words 
without  number. 

2.  Such  thing's  must  frequently  be  the  subject  of  conversation  ; 
and  if  we  had  not  a  more  compendious  way  of  expressing-  them 
than  by  a  detail  of  all  the   simple  notions  which  they  compre- 
hended, we  should  lose  the  benefit  of  speech  ;  for  who,  for  exam- 
ple, to  communicate  the  complex  notion  which  the  word  war  gives 
civilized   men,   would   ever  go   about   gravely  to   tell   us,  "  The 
consideration  of  safety  leads  to  the  invention  of  arms,  and  places 
of  retreat.      The  earliest  weapons  were  men's  fists,  then  clubs, 
slings,   and  bows  and  arrows.     To  these  succeeded,  in  process  of 
time,  the  spear  and   the  sword,  joined   to  the   buckler  and   the 
shield ;  fire-arms,  called  matchlocks,  cannon,  and  then  musketry 
and  rockets.     But  the  desire  of  retreats  gave  rise  to  fortification  ; 
and  the  art  of  war,  in  every  age,  must  be  accommodated  to  the  spe- 
cies of  arms,  engines  and  methods  of  fortification  in  use." — Yet 
even  this  roundabout  meaning  of  the   complex  notion   we  have 
of  the  general  term  war,  hath  not  included  companies,  regiments, 
brigades,  armies ;  magazines  of  provisions,  commissaries ;  barracks, 
camps ;   army  contractors,   army  agents,  army  accoutrement  ma- 
kers ;  a  commander  in  chief,  loans  to  goverment  to  carry  on  the 
war,  and  a  thousand  other  terms,  not  one  of  which  is  simple,  are 
all  component  parts  of  the  complex  notion  which  the  experience 
of  our  own  times  gives  us  of  that  detestable  word  ~var. 

3.  The  different  talents,  dispositions,  and  habits  of  men  in  socie- 
ty, have,  in  every  language  general  names ;  such  as  wise,  foolish, 
knowing,  ignorant,  proud,  vain. 

4.  In  every  operative  art  the  tools,  instruments,  materials,  the 
work  produced,  and  the  various  excellencies  or  defects  of  these, 
must  have  general  names. 

5.  Technical  terms  in  the  sciences,  make  another  class  of  gene- 
ral names  of  complex  notions ;  as  in  mathematics,  axiom,  defini- 
tion, problem,  theorem,  corollary,  scholium,  lemma. 

6.  The  various  relations  of  persons  and  of  thing's,  which  cannot 
escape  the   observation   of  men   in  society,   lead   them   to  many 
complex  general  notions ;  such  as,  father,  brother,  friend,  enemy, 
master,  servant,  property,  theft,  rebellion. 

7.  In  all  the  languages  of  mankind,  not  only  the  writing's  and 
discourses  of  the  learned,  but  the  conversation  of  the  vulgar,  is  al- 
most entirely  made  up  of  general  words,  which  are  the  signs  of 
general  conceptions,  either  simple  or  complex.     And  in  every  lan- 
guage, we  find  the  terms  signifying-  complex  notions  to  be  such, 
and  only  such,  as  the  use  of  lang-uag-e  requires. 

193.  A  very  large  class  of  complex  terms  are  those  by 
which  we  name  the  species,  genera,  and  tribes  of  natural 
substances.  Utility  leads  to  the  adoption  of  these  general 
names,  and  nature  directs  us  in  combining  the  attributes 
which  are  included  under  any  specific  name  ;  but  in  form- 


82  .i  Grammar  of  Logic,  HOOK  n* 

ing  other  combinations  of  mixed  modes  and  relations,  the 
actions  or  thoughts  of  men,  or  the  occurrences  of  life,  bring 
the  ingredients  together. 

Ill-its.  We  form  a  general  notion  of  those  attributes  wherein  ma- 
ny individuals  agree.  To  this  combination  we  give  a  specific  name, 
which  is  common  to  all  substances,  having  those  attributes,  which 
either  do  or  may  exist.  The  specific  name  comprehends,  neither 
more. nor  fewer  attributes  than  we  find  proper  to  put  into  its  defi- 
nition. It  comprehends  not  time,  nor  place,  nor  even  existence, 
though  there  can  be  no  individual  without  these. 

194.  Without  some  general  knowledge  of  the  qualities  of 
natural   substances,  human  life  would  not   be  preserved. 
And  there  can  be  no  general  knowledge  of  this  kind,  with- 
out reducing  them  to  species  under  specific  names. 

Illus.  For  this  reason,  among  the  rudest  nations,  we  find  names 
for  fire,  water,  earth,  air,  mountains,  fountains,  rivers ;  for  the  kinds 
of  vegetables  which  those  nations  use  ;  for  the  animals  which  they 
hunt  or  tame,  or  which  are  found  useful  or  hurtful.  Each  of  those 
names  signifies,  in  general,  a  substance  having  a  certain  combina- 
tion of  attributes.  The  name  must  therefore  be  common  to  all  sub- 
stances in  which  those  attributes  are  found. 

195.  As  the  knowledge  of  nature  advances,  more  species 
of  natural  substances  are  observed,  and  their  useful  quali- 
ties discovered.     And  in  order  that  this  important  part  of 
human  knowledge  may  be  communicated,  and  handed  down 
to  future  generations,  it  is  not  sufficient  that  the  species 
have  names; — the  fluctuating  state  of  language  does  not 
permit  general  names  always  to  retain  the  same  precise 
signification  ; — hence  the  necessity  of  definitions,  in  which 
men  are  disposed  to  acquiesce. 

Illus.  1.  To  give  names  and  accurate  definitions  of  all  the  knov^n 
species  of  substances  is  necessary,  in  order  to  form  a  distinct  lan- 
guage concerning  them,  and  consequently  to  facilitate  our  know- 
ledge respecting  them,  and  to  convey  it  to  future  generations. 

2.  Every  speeics  that  is  known  to  exist  ought  to  have  a  name  ; 
and  that  name  ought  to  be  defined  by  such  attributes  as  serve  best- 
to  distinguish  the  species  from  all  others. 

3.  Nature  invites  to  this  work,  by  having  formed  things  so  as  to 
make  it  both  easy  and  important. 

For,  first,  We  perceive  numbers  of  individual  substances  so  like 
in  their  obvious  qualities,  that  the  most  unimproved  tribes  of  men 
consider  them  as  cf  one  species,  and  give  them  one  common  name. 

Secondly.  The  more  latent  qualities  of  substances  are  generally 
the  same  in  all  the  individuals  of  a  species ;  so  that  what,  by  obser- 
vation or  experiment,  is  found  in  a  few  individuals  of  a  species,  is 
presumed,  and  commonly  found  to  belong  to  the  whole.  By  this 
we  are  enabled,  from  particular  facts,  to  draw  general  conclusions. 
This  kind  of  induction  is  indeed  the  master-key  to  the  knowledge 


Of  Absiraction. 

of  nature,  without  which  we  could  form  no  general  conclusions  in 
that  branch  of  philosophy. 

And,  thirdly,  By  the  very  constitution  of  our  nature,  we  are  led, 
without  reasoning1,  to  ascribe  to  the  whole  species  what  we  have 
found  to  belong-  to  the  individuals.  It  is  thus  we  come  to  know  that 
fire  burns,  and  that  water  drowns  ;  that  bodies  gravitate,  and  that 
bread  nourishes. 

196.  The  species  of  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms, 
seem  to  be  fixed  by  nature,  by  the  power  which  they  have 
of  producing  their  like.     And  in  these,  men  in  all  ages  and 
nations,  have  accounted  the  parent  and  the  progeny  the 
same  species. 

Obs.  1.  The  differences  observed  by  naturalists,  with  regard  to 
the  species  of  these  two  kingxloms,  are  termed  varieties,  and  may 
be  produced  by  soil,  climate,  and  culture,  and  sometimes  by  mon- 
strous productions,  which  are,  however,  comparatively  rare. 

2.  Tn  the  inanimate  kingdom  thing's  have  been  divided  into 
species,  though  the  limits  of  these  species  seem  to  be  somewhat 
arbitrary  ;  but,  from  the  progress  already  made,  there  is  ground  to 
hope,  that  even  in  this  kingdom,  as  the  knowledge  of  it  advances, 
the  various  species  may  be  so  well  distinguished  and  denned,  as  to 
answer  every  valuable  purpose. 

197.  When  the  species  are  so  numerous  as  to  burden  the 
memory,   it  is   greatly  assisted  by  distributing  them  into 
genera;  the  genera  into  tribes;  the  tribes  into  orders  ;  and 
the  orders  into  classes.     Such  a  regular  distribution  of  na- 
tural substances,  by  divisions  and  subdivisions,  has  got  the 
name  of  a  system. 

Ilhis.  1.  It  is  not,  however,  a  system  of  truths,  but  a  system  of 
general  terms,  with  their  definitions ;  and  it  is  not  only  a  great  help 
to  the  memory,  but  facilitates  very  much  the  definition  of  the  terms. 
For  the  definition  of  the  g-enus  is  common  to  all  the  species  of  that 
genus,  and  is  so  understood  in  the  definition  of  each  species,  with- 
out the  trouble  of  repetition.  In  like  manner  the  definition  of  a 
tribe  is  understood  in  the  definition  of  every  genus,  and  ke  very 
species  of  that  tribe;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  every  superior 
division. 

2.  The  effect  of  such  a  systematical  distribution  of  the  productions 
of  nature,  is  seen  in  our  systems  of  zoology,  botany,  and  mineralogy; 
in  which  a  species  is  accurately  defined  in  a  line  or  two,  which, 
without  this  systematical  arrangement,  could  hardly  be  defined  in  a 
page. 

3.  The  talent  of  arranging-  properly  affords  the  strongest  proof 
of  genius,  and  is  entitled  to  a  high  degree  of  praise.     There  is  an 
intrinsic  beauty  in  arrangement ;  it  captivates  the   mind  and  gives 
pleasure,  even  abstracting-  from  its  utility.     The  arrangement  of  an 
army  drawn  up  for  battle,  is  a  grand  spectacle ;  the  same  number 
of  men  crowded  together  in  a  fair  has  no  such  effect. 

4.  In  order  to  remove  all  ambiguity  in.  the  names  of  diseases,  and 


84  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  HOOK  ii« 

to  advance  the  healing1  art,  very  eminent  medical  men  have  now  re- 
duced into  a  systematical  order  the  diseases  of  the  human  body,  and 
given  distinct  names  and  accurate  definitions,  of  the  specie;-;,  genera, 
orders,  and  classes,  into  which  they  distribute  them.  And  in  Paris 
there  is  now  a  professor  of  medicine,  who,  in  lecturing  to  his  stu- 
dents on  cutaneous  diseases,  arranges  the  patients  according1  to  the 
classes  or  varieties  of  the  disease,  under  trees  when  the  weather 
will  permit,  on  which  a  large  placard  is  fixed,  to  indicate  the  class 
or  variety  of  the  disease  ;  and  when  it  is  necessary  for  the  professor 
to  have  a  patient  beside  him,  to  afford  ocular  demonstration  of  the 
illustrations  he  is  giving",  in  place  of  calling  the  patient  by  his  Chris- 
tian or  sirname,  the  professor  calls  him  by  the  name  of  the  class  to 
which  his  disease  belongs.  Such  improvements,  like  the  invention 
of  printing,  serve  to  embalm  a  most  important  branch  of  human 
knowledge,  and  to  preserve  it  from  being  corrupted  or  lost. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS,  OR  COMBINATION. 

198.  ASSOCIATION,  or  the  combination  of  ideas,  is  the 
faculty  by  which  we  connect  objects  together,  according  to 
various  relations,  essential  or  accidental,  so  that  they  are 
suggested  to  us,  the  one  by  the  other. 

Obs.  It  is  matter  of  the  most  familiar  observation,  that  we  are  apt 
to  connect  together  the  various  objects  of  our  thoughts  according 
to  some  real  or  supposed  relations  which  we  observe  among  them; 
so  that  they  come  afterwards  to  be  suggested  to  the  mind,  the  one 
by  the  other.  By  the  faculty  of  abstraction  we  analyse  individual 
objects,  so  as  to  make  their  various  qualities  and  attributed  sepa- 
rate subjects  of  our  thoughts ;  by  the  faculty  of  combination  we 
form  these  objects  into  various  classes,  or  groups,  according  to  some 
observed  resemblance  among  them,  or  we  connect  together  certain 
indivfduals  which  have  no  real  relation  to  one  another,  merely  on 
account  of  some  accidental  circumstance  which  has  occasioned 
them  to  be  present  to  our  thoughts  at  the  same  moment.  Both  fa- 
culties are  eminently  subservient  to  the  advancement  of  our  know- 
ledge, and  the  progress  of  scientific  investigation ;  the  object  of 
which  is,  to  ascertain  those  general  laws,  or  first  principles,  accor- 
ding to  which  the  phenomena  of  whole  classes  of  beings  are  regula- 
ted. 

199.  Association,  or  the  combination  of  ideas,  naturally 
divides  itself  into  two  parts:  the  first,  as  it  relates  to  the 
influence  of  association,  in  regulating  the  succession  of  our 
thoughts;  the  second,  as  it  relates  to  its  influence  on  the 
intellectual  powers,  and  on  the  moral  character,  by  the  more 


fe  H  A  p.  v  1 1 .         Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  &  £ 

intimate  and  indissoluble  combinations  which  it  leads  us  to 
form  in  infancy  and  early  youth. 

200.  The  influence  of  association  in  regulating  the  suc- 
cession of  our  thoughts,  is -a  fact  familiar  to  all  men  :  that 
one  thought  is  often  suggested  to  the  mind  by  another  ;  and 
that  the  sight  of  an  external  object  often  recals  former  oc- 
currences and  revives  former  feelings,  are  facts  which  have 
never  been  disputed  by  those  who  speculate  least  on  the 
principles  of  their  nature. 

fllus.  1.  Travelling-  along1  a  road  that  we  have  formerly  traversed 
with  a  friend,  the  particulars  of  the  conversation  in  which  we  were 
then  engaged^  are  frequently  suggested  to  us  by  the  objects  with 
which  we  meet. — A  field,  a  house,  a  plantation,  a  stream,  will  sug- 
gest the  conversation,  and  the  arguments  which  were  discussed 
start  like  apparitions  to  our  mind's  eye,  or  recur  spontaneously  to 
the  memory. 

2.  On  the  same  general  law  of  our  nature,  are  obvious  the  con- 
nection formed  in  our  mind  between  the  different  words  of  a  lan- 
guage and  the  ideas  they  denote  ;  that  between  the  different  words 
of  a  discourse  we  have  committed  to  memory  ;  and  that  between 
the  notes  of  a  piece  of  music  in  the  mind  of  the  musician. 

201.  The  influence  of  perceptible  objects  in  reviving  for- 
mer thoughts  and  former  feelings,  is  peculiarly  remarkable. 

Him.  "Whilst  we  were  at  dinner,"  says  Captain  King,  "in  this 
miserable  hut,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Awatska,  the  guests  of  a 
people  with  whose  existence  we  had  before  been  scarce  acquainted, 
and  at  the  extremity  of  the  habitable  globe,  a  solitary  half-worn 
pewter  spoon,  whose  shape  was  familiar  to  us,  attracted  our  atten- 
tion ;  and,  on  examining  it,  we  found  it  stamped  on  the  back  with 
the  word  London.  I  cannot  pass  over  this  circumstance  in  silence, 
out  of  gratitude  for  the  many  pleasant  thoughts,  the  anxious  hopes, 
and  tender  remembrances,  it  excited  in  us.  Those  who  have  ex- 
perienced the  effects  that  long  absence,  and  extreme  distance  from 
their  native  country,  produce  on  the  mind,  will  readily  conceive 
the  pleasure  such  a  trifling1  incident  gave  us." 

202.  The  relations  in  consequence  of  which  association 
takes  place,  are  either  essential  or  accident aL 

203.  Among  the  essential  relations,  the  most  remarkable 
appear  to  be,  1.  Resemblance  ;  2.  Analogy  ;  3.  Contrariety  $ 
4.  Jhutual  Dependence;  as  of  cause  and  effect,  premises 
and  conclusion,  means  and  end,  and  the  like. 

204.  The  accidental  relations,  or  the  sources  of  associa- 
tion, seem  chiefly  reducible  to  the  circumstance  of  the  two,, 
objects  of  thought  having  been  presented  to  the  mind  to 
gether;  or  from  what  the  philosophers  call  the  contiguity  of 
time  and  place,  in  consequence  of  which  we  are  led  after 


$6  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11, 

wards  to  think  of  them  at  the  same  time,  and  to  conceive 
some  real  connection  Between  them. 

I.  Essential  Relations,  sources  of  Asssotiation. 

205.  (i.)  That  RESEMBLANCE  is  a  natural  species  of  rela- 
tion, and  leads  us  to  connect  together  the  objects  of  our 
thoughts,  is  matter  of  the  most  familiar  observation. 

Illus.  It  is  our  proneness  to  trace  out  this  kind  of  relation,  that 
leads  us  to  give  generic  names  to  certain  classes  of  objects;  such 
as,  animals,  trees,  stones,  and  other  things  that  engage  our  attention. 
This  was  fully  illustrated  in  the  last  chapter,  and  so  powerfuly  are 
we  prompted  to  this  exercise  of  our  faculties,  that  we  are  in  much 
greater  danger  of  supposing  resemblances  between  objects  which 
are  essentially  different,  than  of  not  discovering  a  resemblance 
where  it  really  exists.  The  gratification,  however,  which  nature 
has  attached  to  the  exercise  of  this  act  of  the  mind,  is  of  the  great- 
est advantage  in  promoting  our  knowledge ;  for  by  continually 
seeking  to  discover  new  points  of  likeness  in  the  objects  of  nature, 
we  are  led  to  reduce  them  to  a  few  simple  classes,  and  to  discover 
the  general  laws  by  which  their  phenomena  are  regulated. 

206.  Many  of  the  pleasures  of  taste  may  be  ascribed  to 
the    gratification    accompanying  the  discovery  of  resem- 
blance. 

lllus.  Thus,  in  comedy,  much  of  the  pleasure  of  an  audience  ari- 
ses from  the  resemblance  they  discover  in  the  sentiment,  the  action, 
and  the  business  of  the  piece,  with  what  they  have  already  heard, 
or  seen,  or  engaged  in  themselves. 

207.  The  merit  of  wit  appears  to  be  justly  placed  in  tra- 
cing remote  and  unexpected  resemblances  among  the  ob- 
jects of  our  thoughts,  which,  from  their  novelty  and  singu- 
larity, are  calculated  to  excite  admiration.     (See  Art.  178. 
lllus.  1  and  2.) 

lllus.  Sublimity  elevates,  beauty  charms,  wit  diverts :  the  first 
enraptures  and  dilates  the  soul :  the  second  diffuses  over  it  serene 
delight ;  the  third  tickles  the  fancy  and  throws  the  spirits  into  an  a- 
greeable  vibration.  And  the  limning  of  wit  differs  from  rhetorical 
painting  in  two  respects  :  one  is,  that  the  latter  requires  not  only  a 
resemblance  in  that  particular  on  which  the  comparison  is  founded, 
but  demands  also  a  general  similitude  in  the  nature  and  quality  of 
that  which  is  the  basis  of  the  imagery,  to  that  which  is  the  theme 
of  discourse  :  whereas  the  former,  though  requiring  an  exact  like- 
ness in  the  first  particular,  demands,  in  the  second,  a  contrariety 
rather,  or  remoteness.  Rhetorical  painting,  in  respect  of  dignity, 
or  the  impression  it  would  make  upon  the  mind,  brings  together 
things  homogeneous ; — thus,  whatever  has  magnificence,  must  be 
pourtrayed  by  whatever  is  magnificent ;  objects  of  importance  by 
objects  of  importance  ;  such  as  have  grace,  by  things  graceful. 
The  limning  of  wit,  like  an  enchantress,  exults  in  reconciling  con- 
tradictions, and  in  hitting-  on  that  special  light  and  attitude,  where 


CHAP.  vn.  Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  87 

in  you  can  discover  an  unexpected  similarity  in  objects  which,  at 
first  sight,  appear  the  most  dissimilar  and  heterogeneous  :  thus  high 
and  low  are  coupled,  humble  and  superb,  momentous  and  trivial, 
common  and  extraordinary.  ("Ex.  Art.  222.  J 

Carol.  Wit,  therefore,  implies  a  power  of  calling  up  at  pleasure 
the  ideas  which  it  combines,  and  the  entertainment  it  affords  is 
founded  on  the  surprise  it  creates ;  for  a  bon  mot  pleases  more  in 
conversation  than  in  print,  and  premeditated  wit  never  fails  to  dis- 
gust; and  he  who  sports  a  bon  mot  at  the  game  of  cross  purposes  doth 
not  fail  to  create  amusement;  but,  in  such  cases,  our  pleasure 
seems  chiefly  to  arise  from  the  surprise  we  feel  at  so  extraordinary 
a.  coincidence,  between  a  question  and  an  answer  coming  from  per- 
sons who  had  no  direct  communication  with  each  other. 

£08.  The  pleasing  effect  of  simile,  poetical  allusion,  met- 
aphor, and  allegory,  also  arises,  in  a  great  measure,  from 
the  same  cause  ;  although,  very  generally,  in  all  these  cases, 
the  principle  of  relation,  or  association,  is  rather  reducible 
to  analogy  than  to  resemblance :  as  there  is  more  room  for 
ingenuity  and  the  exercise  of  fancy,  in  tracing  a  similarity 
of  effects  or  general  consequences,  which  constitutes  an  an- 
alogy, than  in  discovering  a  mere  likeness,  or  precise  iden- 
tity. 

I  HUB.  In  the  case  of  poetical  imagination,  it  is  the  association  of 
ideas  that  supplies  the  materials  out  of  which  the  combinations  are 
formed  ;  and  when  such  an  imaginary  combination  is  become  famil- 
iar to  the  mind,  it  is  the  association  of  ideas  that  connects  its  differ- 
ent parts  together,  and  unites  them  into  one  whole. 

Corol.  1.  The  association  of  ideas,  therefore,  although  perfectly 
distinct  from  the  power  of  imagination,  is  immediately  and  essen- 
tially subservient  to  all  its  exertions. 

2.  A  man,  whose  habits  of  association  present  to  him  a  number 
of  resembling  or  analogous  ideas,  for  illustrating  or  embellishing  a 
subject,  we  call  a  man  of  fancy : — it  is  therefore  the  province  of 
fancy  to  collect  materials  for  the  imagination  ;  and,  consequently, 
the  latter  power  presupposes  the  former,  while  the  former  dees  not 
necessarily  suppose  the  latter : — but  for  an  effort  of  imagination 
other  powers  are  necessary,  as  of  taste  and  of  judgment,  without 
which  nothing  can  be  produced  that  will  be  a  source  of  pleasure  to 
others.  The  power  of  fancy  supplies  the  poet  with  metaphorical 
language,  and  with  all  the  analogies  which  are  the  foundation  of  his 
allusions  ;  but  it  is  the  power  of  imagination  that  creates  the  com- 
plex scenes  he  describes,  and  the  nct-t-ous  characters  he  delineates. 
Hence,  to  fancy,  we  apply  the  epithets  of  rich  and  luxuriant ;  te 
imagination  those  of  beautiful  and  sublime. 

£09.  Resemblance  of  sound  is  one  pretty  copious  source 
of  this  kind  of  gratification.  This  resemblance  is  found  in 
the  structure  of  modern  verse,  which,  in  most  European 
languages,  has  not  only  the  accompaniment  of  rhythm,  or  a 
measured  number  of  long  and  short,  or  emphatic  and  unera- 


38  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n. 

phatic  syllables  ;  but  likewise  that  of  rhyme,  or  a  recurrence 
of  resembling  sounds  at  the  termination  of  its  linos. 

Obs.  This  accompaniment  of  verse  was  rejected  by  the  poets  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  which  seems  to  have  arisen  from  its  being1  con- 
sidered as  of  no  value,  on  account  of  the  great  facility  with  which  it 
might  have  been  accomplished  in  the  ancient  languages.  But 
rhyme,  as  I  have  sufficiently  shewn  in  my  Grammar  of  Rhetoric,  ap- 
pears to  have  been  adopted  in  the  poetical  compositions  of  our 
Gothic  forefathers  ;  and  it  is  likewise  found  in  the  poetry  of  various 
Eastern  nations,  as  well  as  of  the  Indian  tribes  ;  so  thut  it  is  a  source 
of  gratification  evidently  founded  in  the  natural  constitution  of 
man. 

210.  The  alliteration  which  is  so  common  in  poetry  and 
proverbial  sayings,  seems  to  arise,  partly,  at  least,  from  as- 
sociations of  ideas  founded  on  the  accidental  circumstance 
of  two  words  which  express  them  beginning  with  the  same 
letter. 

Example  1.     But  thousands  die,  without  or  this  or  that, 
Die  ;  and  endow  a  college,  or  a  cat. 

POPE'S  EPJST, 

2.  Ward  tried  on  puppies  and  the  poor  his  drop. 

Ii>.  IMIT.  OF  HORACE. 

3.  Puffs,  powders,  patches  ;  bibles,  billet-doux, 

RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK. 

;  1  1  .  The  pun  or  paronomasia,  v/hich  hath  been  so  gene- 
rally decried,  and  yet  so  universally  practised,  consists  in 
nothing  more  than  employing  a  word  which  is  ambiguous 
either  in  sense  or  sound,  and  of  v/hich  both  the  meanings 
are  suggested  at  once,  by  the  way  in  which  it  is  used.  It 
gratifies,  therefore,  as  an  example  of  a  newly  discovered  re- 
semblance. 

Example.  The  French  call  this  fig-tire  jeu  de  mots  ;  and  the  fol- 
lowing examples  are  puns  from  Milton  :  "  Which  tempted  our  at- 
tempt." PAR.  LOST,  B.  I.  "To  begin  at  the  Almighty's  throne, 
beseeching  or  besieging."  B.  V. 


Obs.  The  gravity  of  that  man  is  not  to  be  envied  who  believes  the 
assertion  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  that  "genuine  wit  never  made  any 
man  laugh  since  the  creation  of  the  world;"  —  for,  banishing  that 


noisy  and  convulsive  agitation  which  is  excited  by  the  ludicrous, 
genuine  wit,  (and  there  is  none  such  without  some  mixture  oflm- 
mour)  does  unquestionably  create  a  smile  of  surprise  and  wonder, 
appropriated  to  its  flashes. 

212.  (n.)  ANALOGY  is  a  copious  source  of  combination 
among  our  thoughts.  It  may  be  defined  a  similarity,  or 
correspondence,  not  c>;  .ughts  themselves, 

but  of  their  general  effects  or  consequences.  (See  £rt.  74. 
and  lllws.)  - 


*MAP.  tn.          Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  8§ 

Ittus,  Thus,  the  spring1  of  the  year,  or  the  morning  of  the  da}-, 
suggests  to  our  thoughts  the  period  of  infancy,  or  youth ;  as  winter, 
or  evening,  is  naturally  associated  with  old  age.  The  mind  is  prone 
to  trace  out  analogies,  which  are,  after  all,  but  resemblances  of  a 
particular  kind ;  and,  in  many  cases,  it  may  fancy  them  to  exist 
without  any  real  foundation.  Of  this  we  have  the  most  remarkable 
example  in  the  so  generally  conceived  analogy  between  the  pro- 
perties of  body  and  those  of  mind  (Art.  83.)  ;  the  erroneousness 
of  which  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark.  (  Carol.  Art.  £5.) 

213.  The  relations  observable  in  the  effusions  of  wit,  in 
poetical  allusion,  simile,    metaphor,  and  allegory,  belong 
rather  to  the  combinations  of  analogy,  than  to  those  of  re- 
semblance ;  and  in  tracing  the  former  there  is  much  more 
ingenuity  than  in  tracing  the  latter. 

Ulus.  Thus,  the  well  known  similitude  of  Hudibras, 

"  And  now  like  lobster  boil'd,  the  morn, 
From  black  to  red,  began  to  turn." — 

exhibits  an  analogy  certainly  very  remote  from  common  apprehen^ 
sion.  (See  Jlrt.  178.  Elus.  1.) 

214.  An  allusion  pleases,  by  presenting  a  new  and  a  beau- 
tiful image  to  the  mind.     The  analogy  or  resemblance  be- 
tween this  image  and  the  principal  subject,  is  agreeable  of 
itself,  and  is  indeed  necessary  to  furnish  an  apology  for  the 
transition  which  the  writer  makes,  but  the  pleasure  is  won- 
derfully heightened,  when  the  new  image  thus  presented  is 
a  beautiful  one. 

Ulus.  The  following  allusion,  from  one  of  Home's  tragedies,  seems 
4o  unite  every  excellence  : 

Hope  and  fear  alternate,  sway'd  his  breast ; 

Like  light  and  shade  upon  a  waving  field, 

Coursing  each  other,  when  the  flying  clouds 

Now  hide,  and  now  reveal,  the  Sun. 

Here  the  analogy  is  perfect  ?  not  only  between  light  and  hope,  and 
between  darkness  and  fear;  but  between  the  rapid  succession  of 
light  and  shade,  and  the  momentary  impulses  of  these  opposite  emo- 
tions; while,  at  the  same  time,  the  new  image  which  is  presented 
to  us,  recals  one  of  the  most  pleasing  and  impressive  incidents  in 
rural  scenery ;  namely, 

Light  and  shade  upon  a  waving  field, 
Coursing  each  other,  when  the  flying  clouds 
Now  hide,  and  now  reveal,  the  Sun. 

215.  The  discovery  of  such  analogies  has  the  twofold 
merit  of  embellishing  and  illustrating  a  subject ;  and  they 
are  therefore,  with  propriety,  introduced,  not  only  into  the 
amusing  kinds  of  composition,  but  also  into  those  of  thr 
grave  and  didactic  form. 

9 


90  *2  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

Ittus.  The  following1  are  happy  instances  of  the  effects  of  such 
well  chosen  analogies,  though  the  writings  in  which  they  occur  are 
not  professedly  didactic. 

Example  1.  To  endeavour  to  work  upon  the  vulgar  with  fine 
sense,  is  like  attempting-  to  cut  blocks  of  marble  with  a  razor.— 
POPE. 

2.  Did  you  ever  observe  one  of  your  clerks  cutting  his  paper  with 
a  blunt  knife  ?  Did  you  ever  know  the  knife  to  go  the  wrong  way  ? 
Whereas,  if  you  had  used  a  razor,  or  a  penknife,  you  had  odds  aguinst 
you  of  spoiling-  the  whole  sheet. — SWIFT. 

The  Dean  very  happily  employs  this  allusion  to  illustrate  the  di- 
versity between  genius  and  ordinary  useful  abilities. 

£16.  The  pleasure  we  receive  from  analogy  arises  very 
much  from  the  illustration  which  it  affords  of  the  author's 
ideas. 

Illus.  Thus  Cicero,  and  after  him  Locke,  in  illustrating1  the  diffi- 
culty of  attending  to  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  have  com- 
pared the  mind  to  the  eye,  which  sees  every  object  around  it,  but  is 
invisible  to  itself.  To  have  compared  the  eye,  in  this  respect,  to 
the  mind,  would  have  been  absurd. 

Again,  Pope's  comparison  of  the  progress  of  youthful  curiosity,  in 
the  pursuits  of  science,  to  that  of  a  traveller  among  the  Alps,  owes 
all  its  beauty  to  this — the  Alps  furnish  only  the  illustration  of  the 
allusion,  not  the  original  subject. 

217.  Allusions  from  material  objects,  both  to  the  intellec- 
tual and  the  moral  worlds,  are  found  chiefly  in  compositions 
written  under  the  influence  of  some  particular  passion,  or 
which  are  meant  to  express  some  peculiarity  in  the  mind  of 
the  author. 

Illus.  Thus,  a  melancholy  man,  who  has  met  with  many  misfor- 
tunes in  life,  will  be  apt  to  moralize  on  every  physical  event,  and 
every  appearance  of  nature  ;  because  his  attention  dwells  more 
habitually  on  human  life  and  conduct  than  on  the  material  objects 
around  him. 

Example.  This  is  the  case  with  the  banished  duke,  in  Shakes- 
peare's "  As  you  like  it,"  who,  in  the  language  of  the  poet, 

"  Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running-  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing." 

But  this  is  plainly  a  distempered  state  of  mind  ;  and  the  allusions 
please,  not  so  much  from  the  analogies  they  present,  as  by  the  pic- 
ture they  give  of  the  character  of  the  person  to  whom  they  have 
occurred. 

218.  An  analogy  of  the  most  remote  kind,  consisting 
merely  in  the  general  effect  produced  .upon  the  mind,  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  following  beautiful  similitude  of  Ossian. 

Example.  The  music  of  Carryl  was  like  the  memory  of  joys  that 
are  past  •,  plea  sant  and  mournful  to  the  soul. 


£*HAP.  vii.  Of  the  Jls  so  elation  of  Ideas.  91 

£19.  (in.)  CONTRARIETY  or  CONTRAST,  is  also  a  common 
source  of  combination  among  our  ideas. 

Illns.  1.  Thus,  the  darkness  of  night,  induces  us  to  think  of  the 
splendour  of  day  ;  and  winter's  cold  turns  our  thoughts  to  the  heat 
of  summer. 

2.  It  was  contrariety  that  associated  in  the  mind  of  Xerxes,  the 
melancholy  idea  of  mortality  and  dissolution,  with  the  prospect  of 
his  millions  in  the  pride  of  activity  and  military  splendour ;  when  he 
lamented  that,  in  a  short  period  of  time,  not  one  of  them  would  be 
found  upon  the  earth. 

220.  The  associating  principle  of  contrast  is  calculated  to 
suggest  the  finest  poetical  transitions. 

Illus.l.  Thus,  in  Goldsmith's  Traveller, the  transitions  are  managed 
with  consummate  skill ;  and  yet,  how  different  from  that  logical 
method  which  would  be  suited  to  a  philosophical  discourse  on  the 
state  of  society  in  the  different  parts  of  Europe.  Thus,  after  des- 
cribing the  effeminate  and  debased  Romans,  the  poet  proceeds  to 
the  Swiss : — 

My  soul  turn  from  them — turn  we  to  survey 
Where  rougher  climes  a  nobler  race  display. 

And,  after  painting  some  defects  in  the  manners  of  this  gallant  but 
unrefined  people,  his  thoughts  are  led  to  those  of  the  French : — 
To  kinder  skies,  where  gentler  manners  reign, 
I  turn — and  France  displays  her  bright  domain. 
2.  The  transition  which  occurs  in  the  following  lines,  seems  to  be 
suggested  by  the  accidental  mention  of  a  word  ;  and  is  certainly  one 
of  the  happiest  in  our  language  : — 

Heavens  !  how  unlike  their  Belg'ic  sires  of  old  ! 
Rough,  poor,  content,  ungovernably  bold  ! 
War  in  each  breast,  and  freedom  on  each  brow. 
How  much  unlike  the  sons  of  Britain  now  ! — 

Fir'd  at  the  sound,  my  genius  spreads  her  wing, 

And  flies  where  Britain  courts  the  western  spring. 

221.  This  bias  of  the  mind  for  contrast,  in  its  association 
of  ideas,  is  likewise  eminently  conducive  to  the  advance- 
ment of  our  knowledge  ;  for  it  leads  us  to  inquire  in  what 
respects  the  various  objects  of  nature  differ  from  one  anoth- 
er, as  well  as  wherein  they  agree ;  and  thus  stimulates  us  to 
acquire  an  accurate  knowledge  of  their  properties. 

Note.  The  student  may  refer  back  to  the  illustrations  of  Articles 
164, 166,  and  168,  which,  though  illustrative  of  general  conceptions, 
stimulate  us  to  acquire  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  properties  or 
attributes  of  nature  that  differ  from  one  another,  or  agree  in  general 
and  characteristic  particulars. 

222.  The  relation  of  contrariety  enters  pretty  largely  into 
the  allusions  of  wit,  in  conjunction  with  those  of  resemblance 


9'£  *ft  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  u 

or  analogy ;  for  this  obvious  reason,  that  the  combinations 
of  wit  must  not  be  readily  discoverable;  in  other  words, 
they  must  partake  both  of  resemblance  or  analogy,  and  of 
contrariety. 

Ilhis.  That  species  of  wit  which  constitutes  the  ludicrous,  exhib- 
its a  due  share  of  this  mixture  of  resemblance  and  contrast ;  for, 
according1  to  the  most  legitimate  analysis  of  the  ludicrous,  it  con- 
sists m  a  mixture  of  relation  and  contrariety ;  or  of  incongruity  in 
the  parts  of  an  object,  or  assemblage  of  related  objects.  (Illus, 
Art.  207  J 

Example.  In  the  following  spirited  similitude  of  Pope,  the  parent 
of  the  celestials  is  contrasted  by  the  daughter  of  night  and  chaos ; 
heaven  by  Grub-street ;  gods  by  dunces  ;  and  besides,  the  parody 
which  it  contains  on  a  beautiful  passage  of  Virgil,  adds  particular 
lustre  to  this  aggrandisement  of  little  things,  or  mock  majestic. 

As  Berecynthia,  while  her  offspring  vie 
In  homage  to  the  mother  of  the  sky, 
Surveys  around  her  in  the  blest  abode, 
An  hundred  sons,  and  every  son  a  god  :* 
Not  with  less  glory  mighty  Dulness  crown'd, 
Shall  take  thro*  Grub-street  her  triumphant  round  ; 
And  her  Parnassus  glancing  o'er  at  once, 
Behold  an  hundred  sons,  and  each  a  dunce. 

2£3.  (iv.)  MUTUAL  DEPENDENCE  is  the  fourth  natural 
stfurce  of  connection  among  the  objects  of  our  thoughts 
which  we  enumerated.  If  we  find  one  occurrence  or  phe- 
nomenon constantly  succeeded  by  another,  it  is  extremely 
natural  that  the  one  should  be  suggested  by  the  other  to 
our  minds.  On  the  same  principle,  the  notion  of  means 
employed,  suggest  the  end  which  they  are  designed  ta 
accomplish. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  when  we  observe  the  labours  of  the  husbandman, 
we  naturally  think  of  the  harvest  that  is  to  ensue  ;  and  the  study 
of  an  argument,  or  a  piece  of  reasoning,  leads  to  the  consideration 
of  the  conclusion  or  conviction  which  it  tends  to  produce. 

2.  To  this  source  of  combination  we,  in  a  great  measure,  owe 
our  desire  to  discover  the  hidden  causes  of  the  phenomena  of  na- 
ture, or  the  established  dependence  which  these  have  upon  one 
another.  The  philosopher  accomplishes  this  by  long  and  patient 
study  of  nature  herself;  but  the  illiterate  are  sufficiently  ready  to 
assign  causes  for  whatever  they  see,  though  experience  tells  them 

*  The  passage  in  Virgil  is  this  : 

Felix  prole  virum,  qualis  Berecynthia  mater 
Invehitur  cumi  Phrygias  turritu  per  urbes, 
Lzeta  deum  partu,  centum  complexa  nepotes, 
Omnes  ccelicolas,  omnes  supera  alta  tenentes. 

JE&BED0.8 


CHAP.  vii.  Of  the  Association  vf  Ideas.  93 

.  that  their  want  of  knowledge  is  a  copious  source  of  error  in  this 
field  of  speculation.  And,  to  this  ignorance  of  the  real  dependence 
of  events  upon  each  othef ,  and  a  proneness  to  admit  a  connection 
where  none  really  exists,  must  we  ascribe  the  many  superstitious 
observances  which  prevail  among1  the-  vulgar,  and  still  more  among' 
savage  nations. 

II.  Accidental  Relations,  or  Sources,  of  Association. 

224.  We  not  only  connect  the  objects  of  our  thoughts  to- 
gether according  to  those  essential  and  natural  relations, 
which  we  observe  among  them,  but  alscr  in  consequence  of 
the  mere  accidental  circumstances  of  their  having  been  pre- 
sented to  the  mind  together.     (Art.  204.) 

Illus.  "  We  agreed,"  says  Cicero,  in  the  introduction  to  the  fifth 
book  dejlnibus,  "that  we  should  take  our  afternoon's  walk  in  the 
academy,  as,  at  that  time  of  the  day,  it  was  a  place  where  there 
was  no  sort  of  company.  Accordingly,  at  the  hour  appointed,  we 
went  to  Piso's.  We  passed  the  time  in  conversing  on  different 
matters  during  our  short  walk  from  the  double  gate,  till  we  came 
to  the  academy,  .that  justly  celebrated  spot;  which,  as  we  wished, 
we  found  in  perfect  solitude.  I  know  not,  said  Piso,  whether  it  be 
a  natural  feeling,  or  an  illusion  of  the  imagination  founded  on  habit, 
that  we  are  more  powerfully  affected  by  the  sight  of  those  places 
which  have  been  mucli  frequented  by  illustrious  men,  than  when 
we  either  listen  to  the  recital,  or  read  the  'detail,  of  their  great 
actions.  At  this  moment  I  feel  that  emotion  which  I  speak  of.  I 
see  before  me  the  perfect  form  of  Plato,  who  was  wont  to  dispute 
in  this  very  place  ;  these  gardens  not  only  recal  him  to  my  memory, 
but  present  his  very  person  to  my  senses.  I  fancy  to  myself  that 
here  stood  Speusippus ;  there  Xenocrates,  and  here,  on  this  bench, 
sat  his  diciple  Polemo.  To  me  our  ancient  senate-house  seems  peo- 
pled with  the  like  visionary- forms  ;  for,  often,  when  I  enter  it,  the 
shades  of  Scipio,  of  Cato,  and  of  Lrelius,  and,  in  particular,  of  my 
venerable  grandfather,  rise  to  my  imagination.  In  short,  such  is 
the  effect  of  local  situation  in  recalling  associated  ideas  to  the  mind* 
that  it  is  not  without  reason,  some  philosophers  have  founded  on 
this  principle  a  species  of  artificial  memory." 

Obs.  The  student  will  please  to  observe,  that  the  foregoing- 
illustration  shows  clearly  the  difference,  also,  between  the  effect 
of  a  perception  and  an  idea,  in  awakening  associated  thoughts  and 
feelings. 

225.  This  law  of  association  is  manifestly  of  the  greatest 
utility  in  promoting  the  exercise  of  memory ;  and,  indeed, 
spontaneous   or    involuntary   memory,    seems   entirely   to 
depend   on  those  associations  which  the  mind   has  previ 
ously  formed,,  whether  according  to  natural  or  accidental 
relations. 

Illus.  .\ftcr  time  has  in  some  degree  reconciled  us  to  the  death 
of  a  friend,  how  wonderfully  are  we  affected  the  first  time  we 
enter  the  house  where  he  lived  ! — Every  thing  we  see  ;  the  apart- 

9* 


94  *4  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  it 

ment  where  he  studied ;  the  chair  upon  which  he  sat,  recal  to  us 
the  happiness  which  we  have  enjoyed  together ;  and  we  should 
feel  a  sort  of  violation  of  that  respect  we  owe  to  his  memory,  to 
engage  in  any  light  or  indifferent  discourse  when  such  objects  are 
before  us.  "  That  man,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  is  little  to  be  envied, 
whose  patriotism  would  not  gain  force  on  the  plain  of  Marathon, 
or  whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  among  the  ruins  of  lona." 

226.  On  account  of  their  unlimited  range,  the  accidental 
or  merely  arbitrary  combinations,  are  extensively  useful  to 
the  memory ;  and  what  is  called  mechanical  artificial  me- 
mory, is  founded  entirely  upon  these  combinations.     (See 
lllus.  Art.  224.) 

lllus.  It  is,  in  general,  a  merely  arbitrary  relation  that  subsists  be- 
tween the  sign  and  the  thing  signified ;  as  between  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  and  the  sounds  of  which  they  are  expressive  ;  as  well  as 
between  these  sounds,  or  the  various  words  of  a  language,  and  the 
thoughts  which  they  are  intended  to  denote.  Thus,  the  whole 
fabric  of  language,  whether  oral  or  written,  rests  upon  that  law  of 
the  human  constitution,  whereby  things,  which  are  repeatedly  pre- 
sented to  the  mind  together,  are  afterwards  suggested,  the  one  by  the 
other.  The  same  maybe  said  of  the  symbols  of  the  algebraist;  the 
notes  of  the  musician  ;  and  various  other  like  signs. 

227.  Associations,  which  are  merely  arbitrary,  appear  to 
operate  upon  the  mind  with  fully  as  much  power  as  those 
which  are  founded  in  nature. 

lllus.  The  well  know  effect  of  the  national  air,  called  "  RANS  DES 
VACHES,"  upon  the  Swiss  regiments,  in  foreign  lands,  in  exciting 
what  is  emphatically  called  the  maladie  du  pays,  furnishes  a  very 
striking1  illustration  <xf  the  peculiar  power  of  a  perception,  or  of  an 
impression  on  the  senses,  to  awaken  associated  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings. And  I  cannot  here  omit  to  mention  an  anecdote  of  my  late 
venerable  and  worthy  friend,  Adam  Callendar,  who  in  his  younger 
days  had  served  as  an  officer  in  India.  A  Highland  regiment  had 
been  ordered  up  the  country,  and  on  the  parade,  the  bag-piper  play- 
ed the  famous  air  of  "  Lochaber  no  more."  The  effect  was  not  anti- 
cipated even  by  the  piper.  The  sensibilities  of  his  companions  were 
awakened,  and  the  very  man  who  could  rush  upon  death  in  all  the 
forms  of  battle,  refused  to  go,  as  they  thought,  further  from  home  ; 
and  the  governour-general  had  too  much  good  sense  to  call  this 
maladie  du  pays  by  the  ungracious  name  of  mutiny.  In  the  Penin- 
sula, during  the  late  war,  the  piper  of  a  Highland  regiment  was 
struck  in  the  leg  with  a  bullet,  and  could  not  stand,  yet,  regardless  of 
his  wound,  did  he  seat  himself  on  his  knapsack,  and  cheer  his  com- 
rades to  the  charge  with  the  martial  tune  of  "  Up  and  War  them  a' 
\Villie."  It  would  be  an  insult  to  this  brave  man's  virtues,  to  in- 
quire, whether  he  had  associated  the  idea  of  victory  with  his  "  spiritr 
stirring  lay."  (See  lllus.  Art.  142.) 

228.  The  consequences  of  these  arbritrary  associations 
are  sometimes  exceedingly  whimsical ',  of  which  Locke 
records  two  remarkable  instances. 


CJSAP,  vn.  Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  95 

Hlus.  1.  The  first  is,  of  a  person  perfectly  cured  of  madness,  by  a 
very  harsh  and  offensive  operation.  The  gentleman,  who  was  thus 
recovered,  with  great  sense  of  gratitude  and  acknowledgment, 
owned  the  cure,  all  his  life  after,  as  the  greatest  obligation  he  could 
have  received ;  but,  whatever  gratitude  and  reason  suggested  to 
him,  he  could  never  bear  the  sight  of  the  operator.  This  has  an 
illustrious  parallel !  to  which  it  is  sufficient  to  allude. 

2.  The  second  instance  is  of  a  young  gentleman,  who  having 
learned  to  dance,  and  that  to  great  perfection,  but  there  happened 
so  stand  an  old  trunk  in  the  room  where  he  learned,  and  the  idea  of 
this  remarkable  piece  of  household  stuff  had  so  mixed  itself  with 
the  turns  and  steps  of  his  dances,  that,  though  in  that  chamber  he 
could  dance  excellently  well,  yet  it  was  only  while  the  trunk  was 
there  ;  nor  could  he  perform  well  in  any  other  place,  unless  that, 
or  some  such  other  trunk,  had  its  due  position  in  the  room. 

229.  The  facility  vvitli  which  ideas  are  associated  in  the 
mind,  is  very  different  in  different  individuals ;  a  circum- 
stance this,  which  lays  the  foundation  of  remarkable  varie- 
ties among  men,  both  in  respect  of  genius  and  character. 
In  the  female  mind,  ideas  seem  to  be  more  easily  associated 
together  than  in  the  minds  of  men. 

Corol.  Hence  the  liveliness  of  their  fancy,  and  the  superiority 
they  possess  in  epistolary  writing,  and  in  those  kinds  of  poetry,  in 
which  the  principal  recommendations  are,  ease  of  thought  and  ease 
of  expression,  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  acuteness  of  feeling. 
Hence,  too,  the  facility  with  which  they  contract  or  lose  habits,  and 
accommodate  their  minds  to  new  situations.  Hence,  too,  the  dis- 
position they  have  to  that  species  of  superstition  which  is  founded 
on  accidental  combinations  and  circumstances. 

Example.  "  I  remember,"  says  Dr.  Reid,  "  many  years  ago,  a 
white  ox  was  brought  into  the  country,  of  so  enormous  a  size,  that 
people  came  many  miles  to  see  him.  There  happened,  some  months 
after,  an  uncommon  fatality  among  women  in  child-b earing.  Two 
such  uncommon  events  following  one  another,  gave  a  suspicion  of 
their  connection ;  and  occasioned  a  common  opinion,  among  the 
country  people,  that  the  white  ox  was  the  cause  of  this  fatality. 

Obs.  How  silly  and  ridiculous  soever  this  opinion  was,  it  sprung 
from  the  same  root  in  human  nature,  on  which  all  natural  philoso- 
phy grows,  namely,  an  eager  desire  to  find  out  connections  in  things ; 
and  a  natural,  original,  and  unaccountable  propensity  to  believe, 
that  the  connections  which  we  have  observed  in  time  past,  will  con- 
tinue in  time  to  come. 

230.  To  the  law  of  our  constitution,  which  induces  us  to 
form  arbitrary  connections  among  the  objects  of  our  thoughts, 
are  due  many  of  the  errors  and  prejudices  of  the  human 
mind  in  the  judgments  and  decisions  of  the  moral  faculty. 

Note.  The  importance  of  this  subject  is  therefore  sufficient  to 
justify  its  separate  illustration,  which  will  form  the  subject  of  the 
next  section. 


96  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

III.  Of  the  Influence  of  Association  on  our  various  Judg- 
ments. 

231.  The  influence  of  ARBITRARY  association  in  giving  a 
bias  to  our  opinions  and  judgments,  appears  to  divide  itself 
into  three  heads : 

First,  As  it  affects  the  decisions  of  Taste. 
Secondly,  As  it  affects  the  speculative  Opinions  of  man- 
kind. 

Thirdly,  As  it  influences  our  moral  Judgments. 

First,  as  it  affects  the  Decisions  of  Taste. 

232.  To  the  influence  of  association  in  regulating  the 
decisions  of  taste,  is  to  be  ascribed  the  approbation  which 
we  bestow  upon  the  dress,  pronunciation,  language,  and 
manners  of  the  great  and  the  fashionable. 

Illus.  1.  It  is  not  any  intrinsic  excellence  in  the  mode  itself  that 
causes  our  approbation,  because  when  it  ceases  to  be  the  fashion, 
we  cease  to  approve  it ;  and  bestow  our  approbation  on  some 
other  mode  that  now  comes  to  be  sanctioned  by  the  adoption  of  the 
great. 

2.  The  pronunciation  or  language  of  the  court,  may  frequently 
be  inferior,  in  real  merit,  to  that  of  the  provinces ;  but  the  latter  is 
held  disreputable,  because  associated  with  the  ideas  of  coarseness 
and  vulgarity,  while  the  former  is  considered  reputable  on  account 
of  the  contrary  association.  (See  my  Grammar  of  Rhetoric,  Book 
II.  in  which  the  nature  and  character  of  the  use  which  gives  law  to 
language  is  fully  examined.) 

Corol.  Thus,  the  cause  of  our  approbation  of  whatever  is  called 
fashionable,  is  to  be  sought  in  the  principle  of  association  alone. 

233.  The   effect  of  arbitrary  association  in  matters  of 
taste,  is  still  more  strongly  evinced  in  the  permanent  char- 
acter which  it  frequently  gives  to  the  taste  of  a  nation. 

Ilhis  1.  Thus,  the  Chinese  love  a  foot,  in  their  women,  so  small 
as  to  be  scarcely  of  any  use  in  walking,  for  no  other  reason  than 
this — they  have  associated  with  a  small  foot  the  notion  of  delicacy 
and  elegance  ;  while  they  despise  a  foot  of  the  just  proportions 
which  nature  gives  it,  because,  in  their  minds,  it  is  associated  with 
mean  and  vulgar  qualities. 

2.  The  same  principle  serves  to  explain,  why  in  Holland,  France, 
and  indeed  in  most  parts  of  the  world,  a  style  of  gardening  prevails, 
which  the  better  taste  of  Englishmen  condemns  as  stiff' and  unnatu- 
ral. In  those  countries  the  efforts  of  skill,  artifice,  and  labour,  have 
become  associated  with  a  garden.  In  Holland,  the  more  visible  the 
exertion  of  these  is  rendered,  the  more  admirable,  the  more  beauti- 
ful, nay,  perfect,  is  the  work  rendered.  At  Versailles,  Frenchmen 
are  delighted  with  the  profusion  of  parterres,  terraces,  alleys,  foun- 
tains, statues,  formal  shrubs,  artificial  cascades,  and  grottos,  trees 
whose  foliage  is  clipped  into  many  fantastic  shapes,  and  hedges 


CHAP.  vn.          Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  97 

drest  latterly  and  altitudinally,  like  to  so  many  regiments  of  rifl& 
men  on  parade. 

234.  The  influence  of  arbitrary  association  is  also  mani- 
fested in  the  high  value  that  we  set  upon  the  compositions 
with  which  we  have  been  familiarized  in  early  youth. 

Illus.  These  are  connected,  in  our  minds,  with  a  variety  of  plea- 
sing  occurrences  which  have  happened  at  that  period  ;  and,  there- 
fore, acquire  a  value  in  our  estimation,  which  they  do  not  intrinsi- 
cally possess.  Thus  Addison  himself,  though  so  acute  a  critic, 
under  the  bias  of  this  natural  prepossession,  could  find  every  beau- 
ty of  Homer  or  Virgil  in  the  ancient  ballad  of  Chevy  Chace,  of 
which,  undoubtedly,  the  principle  merit  is  a  native  and  unadorned 
simplicity.  (See  Spectator,  Nos.  70  and  74.) 

235.  It  is  upon  a  similar  principle,  that  the  compositions 
of  celebrated  authors  come  to  be  considered  as  perfect  mo- 
dels of  imitation ;  and  their  very  defects  are  exalted  into 
beauties,  on  acccount  of  their  being  so  closely  combined 
with  those  parts  of  their  works  whicn  are  justly  entitled  to 
our  admiration. 

Him.  Few  things  have  tended  more  to  retard  the  progress  of 
genuine  taste,  than  this  superstitious  veneration  for  great  names. 
In  this  way  the  dictates  of  nature  have  been  made  to  yield  to 
authority :  and  the  practice  of  an  eminent  writer  has  passed  into  a 
law,  which  none  violates  with  impunity.  Hence  the  necessity 
that  some  literary  men  have  conceived  themselves  under,  of  choos- 
ing models  on  which  to  form  their  style  and  sentiment,  as  much 
so  as  the  architect,  who  would  build  a  magnificent  palace,  follows 
the  Grecian  or  Roman  style  of  his  art ;  or  as  a  painter  selects  for 
his  study  the  best  masters  of  the  Flemish,  the  Italian,  or  the 
French  schools.  Bossu,  a  celebrated  French  critic,  can  find  no 
better  foundation  for  the  numerous  rules  which  he  has  given,  than 
the  practice  of  Homer  or  Virgil,  supported  by  the  authority  of 
Aristotle.  "  Strange,"  says  Lord  Kaimes,  "that  in  so  long  a  work, 
the  concordance  or  disconcordance  of  these  rules  with  human 
nature,  should  never  once  have  entered  his  thoughts." 

Corol.  The  decisions  of  the  faculty  of  taste  have  their  founda- 
tion in  the  original  constitution  of  man ;  and,  as  science  diffuses 
her  genial  influence,  the  standard  of  true  taste  comes  gradually 
to  be  ascertained;  therefore,  the  cultivation  of  philosophical  cri- 
ticism must  progressively  dissipate  the  prejudices  which  are  so 
apt  to  wurp  our  decisions  in  matters  of  taste,  and  correct  the 
influence  of  arbitrary  association. 

Secondly,  as  it  affects  the  speculative  Opinions  of  Mankind. 

236.  CASUAL  association  unduly  influences  many  of  our 
speculative  opinions  and  conclusions  of  reasoning. 

Illus.  The  association  of  ideas,  says  Mr.  Stewart,  has  a  tendency 
to  warp  our  speculative  opinions  chiefly  in  the  three  following: 
ivays. 


08  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  if. 

First,  by  blending-  tog-ether  in  our  apprehensions  things  which 
are  really  distinct  in  their  nature,  so  as  to  introduce  perplexity  and 
error  into  every  process  of  reasoning  in  which  they  are  involved. 

Secondly,  by  misleading  us  in  those  anticipations  of  the  future 
from  the  past,  which  our  constitution  disposes  us  to  form,  and 
which  are  the  great  foundation  of  our  conduct  in  life. 

Thirdly,  by  connecting  in  the  mind  erroneous  opinions,  with 
truths  which  irresistibly  command  our  assent,  and  which  we  feel 
to  be  of  importance  to  human  happiness. 

237".  First.  The  association  of  ideas  has  a  tendency  to 
warp  our  speculative  opinions,  by  blending  together  in  our 
apprehensions  things  which  are  really  distinct  in  their  na- 
ture, so  as  to  introduce  perplexity  "and  error  into  every 
process  of  reasoning  in  which  they  are  involved. 

I  Hits.  1.  This  branch  of  the  subject  embraces  our  notions  of 
colour  and  extension.  The  former  of  these  words  expresses  that 
which  is  the  cause  of  a  sensation  in  the  mind ;  the  latter  denotes  a 
quality  of  an  external  object ;  so  that  there  is,  in  fact,  no  more 
connection  between  the  two  notions  than  between  those  of  pain 
and  solidity ;  and  yet,  in  consequence  of  our  always  perceiving 
extension,  at  the  same  time  at  which  the  sensation  of  colour  is 
excited  in  the  mind,  as  when  we  look  upon  an  extended  verdant 
plain,  we  find  it  impossible  afterwards  to  think  of  that  sensation, 
without  conceiving  extension  along  with  it. 

2.  Another  intimate  association  is  formed  in  every  mind  between 
the  ideas  of  space  and  time.  When  we  think  of  an  interval  of  du- 
ration, we  always  conceive  it  analogous  to  a  line,  and  we  apply  the 
same  language  to  both  subjects.  Hence  the  terms,  long  and  short 
time,  as  well  as  long  and  short  distance.  Now,  this  apprehended 
analogy  is  obviously  founded  on  the  association  between  the  ideas 
of  space  and  time,  arising  from  our  always  measuring  the  one  by 
the  other. 

Example.  We  measure  time  by  motion,  and  motion  by  extension. 
In  an  hour,  the  hand  of  the  clock  moves  over  a  certain  space ;  in 
two  hours,  over  double  the  space  ;  and  so  on.  Hence  the  ideas  of 
space  and  time  become  intimately  united,  and  we  apply  to  the 
latter  the  words  long  and  short,  before  and  after,  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  to  the  former. 

I  HUB.  3.  From  an  accidental  association  of  ideas,  arises  also  the 
apprehended  analogy  between  the  relation  which  the  different 
notes  in  the  scale  of  music  bear  to  each  other  ;  and  from  a  similar 
apprehended  analogy  arises  the  relation  of  superiority  and  inferiori- 
ty in  point  of  position,  among  material  objects. 

Corol.  In  the  instances  which  have  now  been  mentioned,  our 
habits  of  combining  the  notions  of  two  things,  become  so  strong", 
that  we  find  it  impossible  to  think  of  the  one  without  thinking,  at 
the  same  time,  of  the  other.  Hence,  we  may  easily  conceive  the 
manner  in  which  the  association  of  ideas  has  a  tendency  to  mislead 
the  judgment,  except  the  mind  be  accustomed  to  those  discrimina- 
tions which  science  requires,  and  which  will  not  suffer  it  to  be 
imposed  on  by  that  confusion  of  ideas  which  warps  the  judgments 
of  the  multitude  in  moral,  religious,  and  political  inquiries. 


vii.          Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  99 

238.  Secondly.  The  association  of  ideas  is  a  source  of 
speculative  error,  by  misleading  us  in  those  anticipations 
of  the  future  from  the  past,  which  are  the  foundation  of  our 
conduct  in  life. 

Ilhis.  1.  The  great  object  of  philosophy  is  to  ascertain  the  latvs 
which  regulate  the  succession  of  events  both  in  the  physical  and  in 
the  moral  worlds ;  in  order  that,  when  called  upon  to  act  in  any  par- 
ticular combination  of  circumstances,  we  may  be  enabled  to  antici- 
pate the  probable  course  of  nature  from  our  past  experience,  and  to 
regulate  our  conduct  accordingly.  Nature  has  not  only  given  all 
men  a  strong  disposition  to  remark,  with  attention  and  curiosity, 
those  phenomena  which  have  been  observed  to  happen  nearly  at 
the  same  time  ;  but  has  beautifully  adapted,  to  the  uniformity  of  her 
own  operations,  the  laws  of  association  in  the  human  mind.  By 
rendering  contiguity  in  time  one  of  our  associating  principles,  she 
has  conjoined  together  in  our  thoughts,  the  same  events  which  we 
have  found  conjoined  in  our  experience,  and  has  thus  accommoda- 
ted (without  any  effort  on  our  part)  the  order  of  our  ideas  to  that 
scene  in  which  we  are  destined  to  act. 

2.  The  laws  of  nature,  which  it  is  most  material  for  us  to  know, 
are  exposed   to   the    immediate    observation   of  our  senses ;  and 
establish,  by  means  of  the  principle  of  association,  a  corresponding 
order  in  our  thoughts  long  before  the  dawn  of  reason  or  reflection. 

3.  This  bias  of  the  mind  to  associate  events  which  have  been 
presented  to  it  nearly  at  the  same  time,  is,  nevertheless,  with  all  its 
boasted  advantages,  attended  with  inconveniences ;  for  among  the 
various  phenomena  which  are  continually  passing  before  us,  there 
is  a  great  proportion  whose  vicinity  in  time  does  not  indicate  a 
constancy  of  conjunction  ;  and  they  who  do  not  distinguish  between 
these   two   classes   of  connections,    will   become  a  prey  to  that 
superstitious  disposition  which  confounds  together  accidental  and 
permanent  connections.     Hence  the  regard  which  is  paid   to  un- 
lucky days,  to  unlucky  colours,  and  to  the  influence  of  the  planets. 

Example.  An  Indian  once  found  himself  relieved  of  a  bodily 
indisposition  by  a  draught  of  cold  water.  This  man  was  a  second 
time  afflicted  with  the  same  disorder,  and  was  desirous  to  repeat 
the  same  remedy.  He  applied  to  a  philosopher  to  be  informed 
whether  the  cure  was  owing  to  the  water  which  he  had  drank,  to 
the  shell  in  which  it  was  contained,  to  the  fountain  from  which  it 
was  taken,  to  the  particular  time  of  the  day,  or  to  the  particular  age 
of  the  moon.  The  philosopher  smiled  at  the  Indian's  simplicity. 
A  juggler,  who  was  by  at  the  time,  overhearing  what  passed,  look- 
ed gravely  at  the  sick  man,  and,  with  much  pomposity,  bade  him 
repeat  the  experiment.  In  order,  therefore,  to  ensure  the  success 
of  the  remedy,  the  Indian  very  naturally,  and  very  wisely  copied, 
as  far  as  he  could  recollect,  every  circumstance  which  accompani- 
ed the  first  application  of  the  water.  He  made  use  of  the  same 
kind  of  shell,  he  drew  the  water  from  the  same  fountain,  he  held 
his  body  in  the  same  posture,  and  he  turned  his  face  to  the  same 
point  of  the  horizon.  He  recovered  a  second  time.  At  the  time 
of  the  second  experiment,  and  ever  after,  all  the  accidental  cir- 


iOO  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  m, 

cumstances  in  which  the  first  experiment  was  made,  were  associa- 
ted equally,  with  the  effect  produced,  in  the  Indian  and  in  the 
juggler's  mind.  The  fame  of  the  cure  was  spread  far  and  wide . 
The  fountain  from  which  the  water  was  drawn  was  ever  after 
considered  as  possessed  of  particular  virtues,  the  shell  from  which 
it  was  drank  was  set  apart  from  vulgar  uses,  the  day  on  which  the 
experiment  was  made  received  a  new  name,  and  was  deemed 
lucky ;  the  posture  of  the  body,  and  the  point  of  the  horizon  in 
which  the  face  was  held,  were  also  accounted  lucky,  for  the  sake 
of  those  who  might  afterwards  have  occasion  to  apply  the  remedy. 

Corol,  1.  Here,  then,  is  the  source  of  one  species  of  superstition 
•due  to  the  influence  of  association  ;  and  it  sufficiently  proves  how 
mankind  are  misled  in  those  anticipations  of  the  future  from  the 
past,  which  are  the  foundation  of  their  conduct  in  life. 

2.  The  reasonings  we  have  now  used  may  be  extended  also  to 
analogous  prejudices  which  warp  our  opinions  respecting  the  cus- 
toms and  manners  of  our  country ;  the  form  and  exercise  of  its 
government ;  the  execution  of  its  laws,  and  the  administration  of 
justice ;  our  manner  of  life  and  course  of  education  ;  but  weakness 
and  versatility  of  mind,  and  the  same  facility  of  association  we 
have  contemplated  in  the  Indian,  are  sources  of  national  prejudice 
and  national  bigotry,  among  enlightened  Europeans. 

£39.  Thirdly.  We  have  now  to  consider  the  third  class 
of  our  speculative  errors,  arising  frcm  the  association  of 
ideas  connecting  in  the  mind  erroneous  opinions,  with 
truths  which  irresistibly  command  our  assent,  and  which 
we  feel  to  be  of  importance  to  our  happiness. 

Illus.  We  have  seen  how  all  the  different  circumstances  whick 
accompanied  the  first  administration  of  a  remedy,  come  to  be 
considered  as  essential  to  its  future  successj  and  are  blended  to- 
gether in  the  conceptions  of  the  mind,  without  any  discrimination 
of  their  relative  importance  ;  and  we  shall  now  shew,  that  whate- 
ver tenets  and  religious  ceremonies  men  have  been  taught  to 
connect  with  the  religious  creed  of  their  infancy,  become  almost  a 
part  of  their  constitution,  by  being  indissolubly  united  with  truths 
which  are  essential  to  their  "happiness,  and  which  they  are  led  to 
reverence  and  to  love  with  all  the  best  dispositions  of  the  heart. 

Example.  A  young  English  officer  had  saved  the  life  of  a  Brah- 
min's daughter.  The  Brahmin  grew  old  and  fell  sick.  On  his 
death-bed  he  exclaimed  to  the  officer,  "Is  it  possible  that  he  to 
whose  compassion  I  owe  the  preservation  of  my  child,  and  who 
now  sooths  my  last  moments  with  the  consolations  of  piety,  should 
not  believe  in  the  god  Vistnou,  and  his  nine  metamorphoses !" 

Here  we  have  all  the  evidence  the  thing  admits  of,  that  the 
astonishment  of  the  learned  and  venerable  Brahmin  was  of  a  piece 
with  what  the  rudest  of  mankind  feel  when  they  see  the  rites  of  a 
religion  different  from  their  own.  The  Brahmin  seemed  to  ques- 
tion whether  there  could  be  any  thing  worthy  in  the  mind  which 
treated  with  indifference  what  awakened  in  his  own  breast  all  its 
bpst  amd  sublime«t  emotions.  The  peasant  views  the  rites  of  a  re- 


£HAP.  vii.  Of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  10 1 

ligion  different  from  that  in  which  he  was  educated,  with  an  aston- 
ishment as  great  as  if  he  saw  some  flagrant  breach  of  the  moral 
duties,  or  some  direct  act  of  impiety  to  God. 

Corol.  What  has  now  been  said  on  the  nature  of  religious 
superstition,  may  be  applied  to  ma>)y' other  subjects;  and >  in 
particular  to  those  political  prejudice^  wljic/i  4>ilu'.'  the  judgment 
even  of  enlightened  men  in  all  countries  of  the  world.  And  with 
this  remark  we  may  therefore  conclude 'here,  wthat»  as *n*  .-l^ci^nt 
Rome,  it  was  regarded  as  the  marfr  of  a-irood  citizen  'ii'v?r  to  d«'F- 
pair  of  the  fortunes  of  the  republic  ; — so  the  good  citizen  of  the 
world,  the  philosopher,  and  the  Christian,  whatever  may  be  the 
political,  the  scientific,  and  the  religious  aspect  of  their  own  times, 
will  never  despair  of  the  fortunes  of  the  human  race  ;  but  will 
act  upon  the  conviction,  that  prejudice,  slavery,  and  corruption — 
ignorance,  error,  and  speculative  mysticism — irreligioi\,  vice,  and 
impiety — must  gradually  give  way  to  truth,  liberty,  and  virtue  ;  to 
knowledge,  good  sense,  and  happiness ;  to  piety,  charity,  and  be- 
nevolence. 

Thirdly,  of  the  Influence  of  arbitrary  dissociations,  as  it  af- 
fects our  moral  judgment. 

240.  Our  moral  judgments  may  be  modified  and  even 
perverted  to  a  certain  degree,  in  consequence  of  the  influ- 
ence of  arbitrary  associations ;  for  there  is  a  fashion,  not  on- 
ly in  matters  of  taste  and  speculative  inquiry,  but  even  in 
morality  anil  religion. 

Illus.  In  the  same  manner  in  which  a  person  who  is  regarded  as 
a  model  of  taste,  may  introduce,  by  his  example,  an  absurd  or  fan- 
tastical dress  ;  so  a  man  of  splendid  virtues  may  attract  some  es- 
teem also  to  his  imperfections ;  and,  if  placed  in  a  conspicuous  situa- 
tion, may  render  his  vices  and  follies  objects  of  general  imitation  a- 
mong  the  multitude.  What  a  libel  on  human  reason  !  to  be  ever 
swayed  by  the  mere  influence  ©f  casual  association,  and  the  false 
shame  of  avowing  ourselves  habitually  the 'friends  of  virtue,  be- 
cause knaves  have  nicknamed  such  tergiversations,  marks  of  supe- 
rior endowments,  and  proofs  of  a  mind  emancipated  from  vulgar  pre- 
judices. (See  Dr.  Smith's  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  for  the  most 
luminous  vietus  of  this  part  of  our  subject.  J 

241.  Again,  if  we  examine  the  moral  and  religious  opin- 
ions which  have  prevailed  in  different  ages  of  the  world, 
and  among  people  of  different  climates  and  nations,  we  shall 
find  a  striking  diversity  in  many  important  particulars. 

Illus.  1.  The  ancient  heathen  and  the  modern  savage  enjoin  us, 
while  we  clo  all  the  good  we  can  to  our  friends,  to  be  equally  studious 
to  injure  our  enemies.  The  milder  precepts  of  Christianity,  on  the 
other  hand,  exhort  us  to  an  unlimited  forgiveness  of  injuries.  Among" 
the  Romans,  suicide  was  a  virtue  ;  among*  Christians,  it  is  a  crime  of 
the  deepest  dye.  The  South  Sea  Islanders,  and  the  ancient  kac<? 

It) 


1Q£  t#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ji. 

demonians,  practised  theft  without  scruple ;  while  by  the  laws  of 
Europe  it  is  punished  with  imprisonment,  banishment,  and  death. 

2.  The  heathen  and  the  savage  combine  the  ideas  of  valour  and 
heroism  with  the  revenge  of  injuries  and  the  destruction  of  their 
enemies ;  and  hence  deem  such  conduct  as  praise-worthy,  as  gra- 
titiAlre  for  benefits'  r£«£ived.     But  the  more  enlightened  Christian 
discerns  true  magnanimity  in  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  ;  and  just- 
ly accouvits.it  a  greater  act  ot'beroism  to  return  good  for  evil,  than 
T/J  rtitrsfy  -tr\e  iriipulsev-of, his. vengeance.     The  heathen  looks  upon 
suicide  as  an  heroic  act ;  the  better  instruction  of  the   Christian 
leads  him  to  consider  it  as  a  proof  of  timidity,  as  well  as  a  highly 
oulpable  renunciation  of  the  controul  of  the  supreme  power.     This 
diversity  of  opinion  proves  the  extensive  influence  of  the  principle 
of  association,  which,  however  it  may  bias,  can  never  totally  sub- 
vert the  power  of  the  moral  sense.      (See    Chapter  XII.  of  thiz 
Book.J 

3.  With  respect  to  the  practice  of  theft,  so  prevalent  among  cer- 
tain tribes,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  in  those  countries  where  it 
lias  prevailed,  property  has  been  considered  as  of  little  or  no  value. 
In  the  South  Sea  Islands,  the  spontaneous  bounty  of  nature  renders 
hoarding  almost  superfluous ;  and,  in  ancient  Sparta,  the  accumula- 
tion of  property  was  positively  prohibited.     In  this  latter  country, 
too,  it  was  merely  the  display  of  skill  that  sanctioned  the  theft ;  for 
detection  was  sure  to  cover  the  perpetrator  with  indelible  disgrace. 

Corol.  Thus,  it  appears,  that  the  diversities  which  are  discovered 
in  the  moral  sentiments  of  mankind,  arise  from  known  laws  of  the 
human  constitution.  The  basis  on  which  these  moral  sentiments 
are  founded  is  immutable ;  but  they  may  be  variously  modified,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances  peculiar  to  the  individual.  It  is  thus  that 
the  language  of  different  tribes  assumes  a  particular  character  and 
idiom,  according  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  their  situation; 
but  the  fundamental  principles  of  grammar  continue  radically  the 
same  in  all  dialects.  (^Illus,  1,  2.  and  Corol.  JLrt.  62.) 

J\"ote.  The  power  of  association  or  combination,  in  regulating* 
the  succession  of  our  ideas,  and  in  directing  the  transition  from  one 
object  of  thought  to  another,  will  be  examined  when  we  come  to 
treat  of  "IMAGINATION,"  and  "THE  TRAIN  OF  THOUGHT  IN  THE  MIXIK" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  MEMORY. 

I.  Things  obvious  with  Jhgard  to  Memory. 

£42.  MEMORY  is  the  faculty  by  which  the  mind  has  a 
knowledge  of  what  it  had  formerly  perceived*  felt  or  though!. 
(See  Illus.  rfrt.  22.  and  the  I/fus.  to  Art.  1S9.) 

.Tllus.  1 .    It  is  by  memory  that  we  have  an  immediate  knowledge 


CHAP.  vni.  Of  Memory.  103 

of  thing's  past.  The  senses  give  us  information  of  things  only  as 
they  exist  in  the  present  moment ;  and  this  information,  if  it  were 
not  preserved  by  Memory,  would  vanish  instantly,  and  leave  us  as 
ignorant  as  if  it  had  never  been.  (See  Art.  124.  Illus.  and  CoroL) 

2.  Memory  must  have  an  object.     Every  man  who  remembers, 
must  remember  something,  and  that  which  he  remembers  is  called 
the  object  of  his  remembrance.     In  this,  Memory  is  allied  to  Per- 
ception, but  differs  from  Sensation,  which  has  no  object  but  the 
feeling  itself.  (See  Art.  125.  and  its  Illus.} 

3.  We  can  distinguish  the  thing"  remembered  from  the  remem- 
brance of  it.     We  may  remember  any  thing"  which  we  have  seen, 
or  heard,  or  known,  or  clone,  or  suffered ;  but  the  remembrance  of 
it  is  a  particular  act  of  the  mind  which  now  exists,  and  of  which  we 
are  conscious.     (See  Illus.  Art.  99.) 

CoroL  The  object  of  Memory  being-  something"  that  is  past,  and 
the  object  of  Perception  and  of  Consciousness  something-  which  is 
present ;  what  now  is,  cannot  be  an  object  of  Memory  ;  neither  can 
that  which  is  past  and  gone  be  an  object  of  Perception  or  of  Con- 
sciousness. 

243.  Memory  is  always  accompanied  with  the  BELIEF  of 
that  which  we  remember,  as  Perception  is  accompanied 
with  the  belief  of  that  which  we  perceive,  and  Consciousness 
with  the  belief  of  that  whereof  we  are  conscious.    (See  Art. 
100.  Him.) 

Illus.  This  belief,  which  we  have  from  distinct  Memory,  we  ac- 
count real  knowledge,  no  less  certain  than  if  it  was  grounded  on 
demonstration  ;  no  man  in  his  wit§  calls  it  in  question,  nor  will  he 
hear  any  argument  against  it.  But  it  cannot  be  resolved  into  the 
evidence  of  sense,  or  of  any  process  of  Memory,  but  must  be  stated 
as  a  peculiar  kind  of  evidence,  which  we  are  so  constituted  as  to 
admit  of  itself,  immediately  and  incontestibly.  The  testimony  of 
witnesses,  in  causes  of  life  and  death,  depends  upon  it,  and  all  the 
knowledge  mankind  have  of  past  events  is  built  upon  this  founda- 
tion. (See  Illus.  2.  Art.  116.) 

Obs.  There  are  cases  in  which  our  Memory  is  less  distinct  and 
determinate,  and  where  we  must  frequently  allow  that  it  may  have 
failed  us  ;  but  this  does  not  in  the  least  weaken  its  credit  where  it  is 
perfectly  distinct. 

244.  To  the  exercise  of  Memory,  we  appear  to  be  entire- 
ly indebted  for  the  notion  of  time  or  duration,  for  a  being, 
destitute  of  that  faculty,  could  never  have  possessed  that 
notion;  and  without  Memory,  he  would  have  no  idea  of 
such  a  thing  as  motion,  for  motion  is  a  successive  change  of 
place,  and  pre-supposes  the  notion  of  succession,  or  duration. 

Illus.  1.  Memory  implies  a  conception  and  belief  of  past  DURATION; 
for  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  remember  any  thing"  distinctly, 
without  believing  some  interval  of  duration,  more  or  less,  to  have 
passed  between  the  time  it  happened,  and  the  present  moment ; 
and,  if  we  had  no  Memory,  we  eovild  acquire  no  notion  of  elwratio'n. 


1$4  «#  Grammar  of  Logic)  BOOK  £u 

2.  Things  remembered  must  be  thing's  formerly  perceived  or- 
known.     I  remember  the  comet  of  1811.     I  must,  therefore,  have 
perceived  it  .at  the  time  it  appeared,  otherwise  I  could  not  remem- 
ber it.     (See  Illus,  2.  Jirt.  59.)     Our  first  acquaintance  with  any 
object  of  thought  cannot  therefore  be  by  remembrance  ;  for  Memo- 
jy  can  only  produce  a  continuance  or  renewal  of  a  former  acquaint- 
ance with  the  thing1  remembered. 

3.  The  notion  of  limited  duration  which  we  distinctly  remember, 
leads  us,  by  a  kind  of  necessity,  to  the  admission  of  a  duration 
which  has  no  limits — which  neither  began,  nor  will  have  an  end. 
In  like  manner,  the  notions  of  limited  extension  and  magnitude, 
which  we  acquire  by  the  senses,  leads  to  the  belief  of  an  unlimited 
extension,  or  of  space  which  has  no  bounds. 

4.  Thus  are  acquired  the  notions  of  infinite  space,  and  of  infinite 
time  or  eternity.     It  cannot,  however,  be  pretended,  that  our  finite 
capacities   are  capable   of  forming  adequate  conceptions  of  that 
which  is  infinite  and  unbounded ;  it  can  only  be  said,  that  there  is 
less  difficulty  in  conceiving  infinite  space,  than  in  conceiving  the 
final  boundaries  of  space,  or  the  beginning  or  end  of  time. 

245.  The  remembrance  of  a  past  event  is  necessarily 
accompanied  with  the  conviction  of  our  own  EXISTENCE  at 
the  time  the  event  happened. 

Illus.  I  cannot  call  to  my  remembrance  the  death  of  the  amiable 
and  lamented  Princess  Charlotte,  that  happened  a  year  ago,  without 
a  conviction  as  strong  as  memory  can  give,  that  I,  the  identical 
person  who  now  remember  that  mournful  event,  did  then  exist. 
£See  Illus.  to  Art.  52.) 

Obs.  These  are  principles  obvious  and  certain,  of  which  the 
reader  must  judge  by  what  he  feels,  and  they  admit  no  other  proof 
feut  an  appeal  to  his  own  reflection. 

II.  Of  Memory  as  an  original  Faculty. 
£46.  Of  our  ORIGINAL  FACULTIES,  of  which  Memory  is 
one,  we  can  give  no  account,  but  that  they  were  given  us 
by  the  Author  of  our  being.     (See  Art.  130.) 

Illus.  1.  The  knowledge  we  have  by  Memory  of  things  past> 
seems  as  unaccountable  as  an  immediate  knowledge  would  be  of 
things  to  come.  I  find  in  my  mind  a  distinct  conception  and  a  firm 
belief  of  a  series  of  past  events,  as  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  the  battle 
of  Vittoria :  but  I  know  not  how  this  is  produced.  I  call  it  Memory, 
but  this  is  only  giving  a  name  to  it ;  it  is  not  an  account  of  its  cause. 
I  remember  the  building  of  Waterloo  Bridge ;  I  have  seen  hundreds 
of  men  employed  on  it,  and  thousands  of  blocks  of  granite  used  in 
its  construction,  and  I  most  firmly  believe  these  facts ;  but  I  am 
unable  to  give  any  reason  of  this  belief.  I  conclude,  therefore,  that 
it  is  the  inspiration  of  my  Maker  that  gives  me  this  understanding. 

2.  When  1  believe  that  I  washed  my  hands  and  face  this  morning, 
there  appears  no  necessity  in  the  truth  of  this  proposition  :  it  might 
}>c,  or  it  might  net  be.  You  may  distinctly  conceive  it  without 


OHAP.  viii.  @f  Memory.  105 

believing  it.  But  how  do  I  come  to  believe  it  ? — I  remember  it 
distinctly  ;  and  this  is  all  I  can  say  about  it.  But  this  remembrance 
is  an  act  of  my  mind.  Could  this  act  of  my  mind  have  existence  if 
the  event  had  not  happened?  If  you  can  shew  that  it  could  not  have 
existence  you  will  then  have  fairly  accounted  for  that  belief  which 
we  have  of  what  we  remember;  but  on  the  other  hand,  if  you 
cannot  shew  this,  allow  me  still  to  think  that  this  belief  is  unac- 
countable, and  that  we  can  say  no  more  but  that  it  is  the  result  of 
our  constitution. 

Carol.  We  are  so  constituted  as  to  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of 
many  things  past  (Art.  47.)  ;  but  we  have  no  intuitive  knowledge 
of  the  future.  The  past  was,  but  now  is  not;  we  only  remember 
things  past.  The  future  will  be,  but  is  not ;  we  can  have  no  re- 
membrance of  the  future,  because  we  have  no  knowledge  of  it. 
We  might  perhaps  have  been  so  constituted  as  to  have  an  intuitive 
knowledge  of  the  future  ;  but  not  of  the  past :  nor  would  this  con- 
stitution have  been  more  unaccountable  than  the -present,  though, 
for  any  thing  we  know  to  the  contrary,  it  might  be  much  more  in- 
convenient. Had  this  been  the  constitution  of  the  human  kind, 
they  who  doubt  the  prescience  of  the  Deity,  or  his  knowledge  of 
things  future,  would  be  plunged  into  an  opposite  disbelief  of  admit- 
ting his  knowledge  of  things  that  are  past.  How  limited  then  are 
proud  man's  most  comprehensive  conceptions ! 

III.  Analysis  of  the  Faculty  of  Memory. 

247.  The  faculty  of  Memory  implies  two  things  :  first,  a 
CAPACITY  of  retaining  knowledge;  and,  secondly,  a  POWER 
of  recalling  that  knowledge  to  our  thoughts  when  we  have 
occasion  to  make  use  of  it. 

Obs.  The  word  Memory  is  sometimes  employed  to  express  the 
capacity,  and  sometimes  the  poioei1.  When  we  speak  of  a  retentive 
memory ,  we  use  it  in  the  former  sense  j  when,  of  a  ready  ^Memory, 
in  the  latter. 

248.  The  various  particulars  which  compose  our  stock  of 
knowledge  are,  from  time  to  time,  recalled  to  our  thoughts 
in  tivo  ways  :  sometimes  they  recur  to  us  spontaneously,  or 
at  least  without  any  interference  on  our  part ;  in  other  cases, 
they  are  recalled  in  consequence  of  an  effort  of  will. 

Note.  It  would  probably  be  as  philosophical  to  say,  Memory  is 
either  casual  or  iutentionaL — CASUAL,  when  subjects  or  thoughts, 
by  any  connection  of  their  own,  recur  to  the  mind. — INTENTIONAL, 
when  the  mind,  from  design,  recals  any  subject  or  thought. 

film.  For  the  former  operation  of  the  mind,  we  have  the  appro- 
priate name  Reminiscence,  or  Remembrance :  in  our  language,  the 
latter,  too,  is  often  called  by  the  name  of  memory,  but  is  more  pro- 
perly distinguished  by  the  word  recollection.  (Jirt.  254.) 

249.  The  OPERATIONS  of  Memory  relate  either  to  things 
and  their  relations,  or  to  events. 

10* 


IOG  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  M, 

Illus.  In  the  former  case,  thoughts  which  have  heen  formerly  in 
the  mind,  may  recur  to  us,  but  whether,  at  that  time,  we  have  "the 
idea  of  the  past  suggested  or,  not,  there  is,  doubtless,  a  certain 
modification  of  time,  because  what  we  remember  is  past.  In  the 
latter  case,  it  is  more  evident,  that  if  we  recal  to  mind  former  ob- 
jects of  its  thoughts,  we  refer  the  event  to  a  particular  time  ;  so 
that  of  every  such  act  of  Memory,  the  idea  of-  the  past  is  a  necesr 
sary  concomitant.  (See  Jllus.  1.  Art.  245.) 

250.  The  evidence,  or  belief,  of  past  existence,  which 
always  accompanies  Memory,  (*4rt.  243.)  forms  one  impor- 
tant distinction  between  that  faculty  and  association. 

Illus.  1 .  The  suggestions  which  are  made  by  the  faculty  of  Asso- 
ciation alone,  impress  us  with  no  belief  of  their  reality.  In  fact, 
the  very  materials  upon  which  they  are  employed,  if  riot  supplied 
fey  the  immediate  perception  of  the  moment,  must  be  furnished  by 
the  memory,  or  that  faculty  which  enables  us  to  treasure  up  past 
knowledge. 

Corol.  Thus  the  power  of  Association,  in  its  most  useful  exercise, 
pre-supposes  the  power  of  Memory ;  and  when,  during  the  spon- 
taneous flow  of  the  current  of  thought,  we  recognize  a  combina- 
tion of  which  we  had  formerly  been  conscious,  and  distinguish  it 
from  one  newly  formed,  this  necessarily  implies  an  exercise  of  a 
faculty  which  can  distinguish  former  knowledge  from  new  ;  which 
is  not  an  attribute  of  the  faculty  of  .Association,  but  of  the  MEMORI 
alone. 

Illus.  2.  In  the  case  of  some  old  men,  who  retain  pretty  exactly 
the  information  which  they  receive,  but  are  sometimes  unable  to 
recollect  in  what  manner  the  particulars  which  they  find  connected 
together  in  their  thoughts  at  first  came  into  the  mind,  whether  they 
occurred  to  them  in  a  dream,  or  were  communicated  to  them  in 
conversation,  we  have  an  example  of  the  power  of  Association 
operating  without  any  aid  from  memory.  (See  Art.  254.  Illus.  2. 
and  Example.)  But  in  most  cases  the  suggestions  of  Memory  are 
isnade  by  means  of  the  combinations  previously  established  among 
our  thoughts. 

3.  This,  however,  is  but  one  part  of  the  province  of  Memory,  for, 
as  was  observed  above,  (Art.  247.)  this  faculty  implies  two  things; 
a  capacity  of  retaining  knowledge,  and  a  power  of  recalling"  it  to 
cur  thoughts  when  we  have  occasion  to  apply  it  to  use.     The  first 
of  these  is  entirely  independent  of  the  faculty  of  Combination;  but 
this  faculty  is  the  principal,  though  not  the  sole  instrument,  by  which 
the  latter  purpose  is  accomplished. 

4.  The   advantages   of  this  law  are  thus  stated  by  Mr.  Stewart. 
On  the  other  hand,  siys  ho,  it  is  evident  that  without  the  associat- 
ing principle,  the  power  of  retaining  our  thoughts,  and  of  recog- 
nizing them  when  they  occur  to  us,  would  have  been  of  little  use  ; 
for  the  most  important  articles  of  our  knowledge  might  have  re- 
mained latent  in  the  mind,  even  when  those  occasions  presented 
themselves  to  which  they  are  immediately  applicable. 

Corol.  In  consequence  of  this  law  of  our  nature,  not  only  are  all 
our  various  ideas  made  to  pass  from  time  to  time  in  review  before 


$HAP.  viii.  Of  Memory.  107 

us,  and  to  offer  themselves  to  our  choice  as  subjects  of  meditation  ; 
but,  when  an  occasion  occurs  which  calls  for  the  aid  of  our  past  ex- 
perience, the  occasion  itself  recals  to  us  all  the  information  upon 
the  subject  which  that  experience  hath  accumulated. 

IV.   Varieties  of  Memory  in  different  Individuals. 

251.  Of  all  our  faculties,  Memory  is  that  which  nature 
has  bestowed  in  the  most  unequal  degrees  on  different  in- 
dividuals; but  the  original  disparities  are  by  no  means  so 
immense,  as  they  seem  to  be  at  first  view ;  and  much  of  this 
diversity  is  to  be  ascribed  to  different  habits  of  Attention, 
and  to  a  difference  of  selection  among  the  various  objects 
and  events  presented  to  our  curiosity. 

Illus.  As  the  great  purpose  to  which  this  faculty  is  subservient, 
is,  to  enable  us  to  collect  and  retain,  for  the  future  regulation  of  our 
conduct,  the  results  of  our  past  experience  ;  it  is  evident  that  the 
degree  of  perfection  which  it  attains  in  the  case  of  different  per- 
sons, must  vary;  first,  with  \h& facility  of  making-  the  original  ac- 
quisition ;  secomtty.)  with  the  permanence  of  the  acquisition  ;  and, 
thirdly,  with  the  quickness  or  readiness  with  which  the  individual  is 
able,  on  particular  occasions,  to  apply  it  to  use. 

Corol.  The  qualities,  therefore,  of  a  g*oocl  Memory  are,  in  the 
first  place,  to  be  susceptible  ;  secondly,  to  be  retentive  ;  and,  thirdly, 
10  be  ready, 

252.  Susceptibility  and  readiness  are  both  connected  with 
a  facility  of  associating  ideas,  according  to  their  more  obvi- 
ous relations ;  retentiveness  or  tenacious-ness  of  Memory, 
depends  principally  on  what  is  seldom  united  with  this  fa- 
cility— a  disposition  to  system  and  philosophical  arrange- 
ment. 

Jllus.  1.  The  more  obvious  relations  which  befriend  susceptibility 
and  readiness,  are  those  of  resemblance  and  of  analogy,  and  the 
casual  relations  arising*  from  the  contiguity  of  time  and  place  ;  the 
philosophical  arrangement  upon  which  retentiveness  and  tenucious- 
ness  of  Memory  depend,  has  for  its  basis  the  relations  of  cause  and 
effect,  or  of  premises  and  conclusion. 

Obs.  This  difference  in  the  modes  of  Association  in  different  men, 
is  the  foundation  of  some  very  striking1  diversities  between  them  in 
respect  of  intellectual  character.  But  we  have  anticipated  the 
further  illustration  of  this  position  in  Chapters  IV.  VI.  and  VII.  ta 
which  we  must  therefore  refer  the  reader. 

Ittm.  2.  Again,  our  ideas  are  frequently  associated  in  consequence 
of  the  associations  which  take  place  among-  their  arbitrary  signs. 
All  the  signs  by  which  our  thoughts  are  expressed,  are  addressed 
either  to  the  eye  or  to  the  ear ;  and  the  impressions  made  on  these 
organs  at  the  time  when  we  first  receive  an  idea,  contribute  to  give 
us  a  firmer  hold  of  it.  Visible  objects  are  remembered  more  easily 
that  those  of  any  of  our  other  senses  (See  Jlrt.  142.  Illus.) ;  and 


LOS  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  I!/ 

hence  it  is,  that  the  bulk  of  mankind  are  more  aided  in  their  recol- 
lection by  the  impressions  made  on  the  eye,  than  by  those  made  on 
the  ear.  But  in  the  philosopher,  whose  habits  of  constantly  em- 
ploying words  as  an  instrument  of  thought,  co-operating  with  that 
inattention  which  he  is  apt  to  contract  to  things  external,  the  origi- 
nal powers  of  recollection  and  conception  with  respect  to  visible 
objects  are  commonly  greatly  weakened ;  while  the  power  of  re- 
taining propositions  and  reasonings  expressed  in  language  is  greatly 
strengthened  by  his  habits  of  abstraction  and  generalization. 

3.  A  prejudice  has  obtained,  that  a  great  Memory  is  scarcely  com- 
patible with  that  acuteness  of  parts  denominated  genius  ;  and  the 
effect  of  this  opinion  is  such,  that  no  one  blushes  at  acknowledging 
a  shortness  of  Memory,  while  to  be  accused  of  a  defect  of  judgment, 
or  a  want  of  penetration,  is  usually  considered  a  high  affront.  This 
prejudice,  however,  appears  to  be  without  foundation ;  and  Me- 
mory, far  from  being1  incompatible  with  genius,  seems  even  to  be 
necessary,  in  its  utmost  perfection,  for  those  happy  exertions  of  in- 
tellect which  confer  immortality  upon  their  authors. 

Example.  Robert  Bloomfield,  that  completely  self-taught  genius 
and  pleasing  poet,  composed  the  latter  part  of  the  Autumn,  and  the 
whole  of  the  Winter  of  his  FARMER'S  BOY,  mentally,  without  ever 
putting  pen  to  paper.  Nor  was  this  all ;  for  he  even  thoroughly 
corrected  and  revised  this  extensive  portion  of  his  poem,  before  he 
ever  wrote  a  word  of  it ;  and  this,  too,  while  at  work  with  his  fellow 
journeymen,  in  a  garret ;  and  then,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  he 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  -write  it  down  ! 

Illus.  4.  The  following  example,  on  the  contrary,  justifies  the 
foregoing  prejudice  ;  for  none  who  have  perused  the  writings  of 
the  amusing  author  of  whom  we  are  now  to  speak,  can  doubt  that 
he  possessed  genius. 

Example.  MONTAIGNE  frequently  complains,  in  his  writiiYgs,  of  his 
want  of  Memory  ;  and  he  indeed  gives  many  very  extraordinary  in- 
stances of  his  ignorance  on  some  of  the  most  ordinary  topics  of  in- 
formation. But  it  is  obvious,  as  Mr.  Stewart  justly  remarks,  that 
this  ignorance  did  not  proceed  from  an  original  defect  of  memory, 
but  from  the  singular  and  whimsical  direction  which  his  curiosity 
had  taken  at  an  early  period  of  life.  "  i  can  do  nothing,'*  says 
Mantaigne,  "  without  my  memorandum-book  ;  and,  so  great  is  my 
difficulty  in  remembering  proper  names,  that  I  am  forced  to  call  my 
domestic  servants  by  their  offices.  I  am  ignorant  of  the  greater 
part  of  our  coins  in  use ;  of  the  difference  of  one  grain  from  another, 
both  in  the  earth  and  in  the  granary ;  what  use  leaven  is  in  making 
bread,  and  why  wine  must  stand  sometime  in  the  vat  before  it  ferments. 
When  I  have  an  oration  to  speak,  of  any  considerable  length,  I  am 
reduced  to  the  miserable  necessity  of  getting  it,  word  for  word,  by 
heart." — Malebranche  doubted  the  veracity  of  Montaigne  on  these 
matters  ;  Mr.  Stewart  acquits  him  of  affectation ;  but  whoever  has 
seen  the  statue  of  Montaigne  in  the  vestibule  of  the  "  Institute  of 
France,"  will  not  question  the  credibility  of  his  assertions,  provided 
the  sculptor  hath  fairly  chiselled  a  likeness  of  the  most  inanimate 
booking  mortal,  in  whom  a  spark  of  genius  ever  shone. 


«HAP.  viii.  Of  Memory.  10$ 

V.  Of  the  Decay  of  Memory  in  old  People. 

253.  The  decay  of  Memory  in  old  people  is  a  matter  of 
familiar  observation,  as  well  as  that  peculiarity  with  which 
it  is  usually  accompanied  ; — namely,  that  a  complete,  and 
even  minute  recollection,  usually  remains  of  the  events  of 
an  older  date,  and  the  occurrences  of  early  life. 

Illus.  1.  The  failure  of  Memory,  in  regard  to  recent  occurrences, 
is  owing1  to  the  decay  of  Attention.  From  this  decay,  these  occur- 
rences do  not  make  a  sufficient  impression  on  the  mind  to  be  after- 
wards recollected ;  but  the  associating"  principle  remaining1  in  full 
vigour,  and  the  train  of  thought  continuing1  to  perform  its  office, 
circumstances  which  have  been  already  familiarized  to  the  mind  are 
still  suggested  with  the  wonted  accuracy. 

2.  The  foregoing  illustration  may  be  reckoned  satisfactory,  if 
we  understand,  by  the  decay  of  Memory,  not  the  diminished  energy 
of  some  one  particular  faculty  of  the  mind,  but  the  relaxed  vigour 
of  all,  or  most  of  the  mental  faculties,  which,  like  the  bodily  func- 
tions, being  impaired  by  the  approach  of  old  age,  are  incapable  of 
contemplating  their  respective  objects  with  that  degree  of  force 
which  is  requisite  to  their  being  distinctly  remembered  afterwards, 
The  deca}^  of  sensibility  and  the  extinction  of  passion,  which  are  the 
consequences  of  old  age,  likewise  powerfully  co-operate  in  produc- 
ing- this  effect,  by  diminishing  the  interest  which  the  common  oc- 
currences of  life  are  calculated  to  produce. 

254.  That  kind  of  Memory  which  old  people  possess,  gen- 
erally in  a  state  of  vigour,  and  by  which  circumstances  ar& 
presented  spontaneously  to  the  mind,  without  any  voluntary 
effort,   has  been  called  REMINISCENCE  or  REMEMBRANCE; 
while  that  which  requires  a  more  vigorous  effort,  and  is  more 
dependent  upon  the  will  of  the  individual,  has  been  dis- 
tinguished by  the  name  of  Recollection.  (Art.  248.  Note  and 

Illus.) 

*  t 

Ittus.  1.  The  former,  as  mentioned  above,  (Art.  250.  Illus.  2.)  is 
chiefly  dependent  upon  the  faculty  of  Association  ;  while  the  latter 
will  not  be  found  but  where  the  mind  possesses  the  active  exertion 
of  the  faculty  called  Attention.  The  distinction  is  as  old  as  the  clays 
of  Aristotle,*  who  remarks,  that  the  brutes  possess  the  first  kind  of 
Memory,  but  exhibit  no  traces  of  the  last,  which  is  therefore  a  valu- 
able characteristic  of  man. 

2.  This  Reminiscence  of  ideas,  formerly  impressed  on  the  mind, 
and  forgetfulness  of  recent  ones,  is  no  unusual  circumstance  attend- 
ing a  paralysis,  though  our  physiology  is  not  yet  sufficiently  advano 
ed  to  account  for  it. 

Example.  Both  the  foreg-oing  illustrations  are  corroborated  by  the 
authority  of  the  late  learned  Dr.  Watson,  Bishop  of  Landaff :  "My 
father,"  says  he  in  his  Memoirs,  "had  been  afflicted  with  a  palsy 
for  several  years  before  his  death.  I  have  heard  him  ask  twenty 


110  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

times  in  a  day,  What  is  the  name  of  the  lad  that  is  at  coDege  ?  (my 
elder  brother)  ;  and  yet  he  was  able  to  repeat,  without  a  blunder, 
hundreds  of  lines  out  of  classic  authors." 

VI.  Of  the  Improvement  of  Memory. 

255.  The  cultivation  of  so  noble  a  faculty  as  the  Memory, 
is  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance ;  at  the  same  time  we 
must  not  expect  that  any  cultivation,  how  assiduous  so  ever, 
will  altogether  make  up  for  natural  deficiencies  of  Memory, 
any  more  than  those  of  judgment,  taste,  or  any  other  fac- 
ulty. 

Illus.  1.  Of  a  human  Memory  improved  to  no  extraordinaiy  pitch^ 
how  vast  is  the  comprehension  !  With  what  an  endless  multitude 
of  thought  is  it  supplied,  by  reflection,  by  reading,  by  conversation, 
and  by  a  diversified  experience  !  Things  natural  /  as  animals, 
regetables,  minerals,  fossils;  mountains,  vallies ;  land  and  water; 
»arth  and  heaven ;  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  with  their  several  ap- 
pearances, motions,  and  periods ;  the  atmosphere  and  meteors, 
with  all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  weather; — things  artificial,  as  towns, 
streets,  houses,  roads,  bridges,  and  machines,  with  their  various  ap- 
pendages : — abstract  notions  with  regard  to  truth  and  falsehood, 
beauty  and  deformity,  virtue  and  vice  ; — proportions  in  quantity  and 
number  ; — religion,  commerce,  and  policy,  whereof  the  brutes 
know  nothing,  and  which  are  the  chief  materials  of  human  conver- 
sation. 

2.  These  are  some  of  the  general  heads  under  which  may  be  ar- 
ranged the  manifold  treasures  of  human  memory  ;  and  under  each 
of  these  heads,  what  an  infinity  of  individual  things  are  compre- 
hended !  How  numerous,  for  example,  are  the  words  of  one  lan- 
guage !  He  who  is  master  of  four,  must  be  supposed  to  retain  at 
least  two  hundred  thousand  words ;  with  all  the  different  ways  of 
tpplying  them,  according  to  rule,  and  innumerable  passages  in  books 
to  illustrate  their  meaning.  And  that  four  languages  do  not  ex- 
ceed the  capacity  of  an  ordinary  man,  wiil  not  he  denied  by  those 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Sir  William  Jones ;  much 
less  if  they  believe  with  Pliny  and  Quinctilian,  that  Mithridates  un- 
derstood two  and  twenty ! 

256.  The  utmost  that  can  be  expected  from  any  exertion 
of  our  own,  is,  to  direct  the  Memory  to  its  proper  objects, 
and  in  that  order  and  succession,  which  will  most  facilitate 
its  operation;  to  remove  as  much  as  possible  those  obstruc- 
tions which  are  likely  to  retard  the  proper  action  of  the 
faculty;  and,  by  a  repeated  and  industrious  exertion,  to 
bring  it  to  that  state  ot  maturity  and  that  degree  of  energy, 
which,  in  every  human  attainment,  are  so  highly  promoted 
by  exercise. 

Illus.  1.  In  order  successfully  to  cultivate  the  Memory,  we  must 
cultivate  the  powers  of  Attention  and  Association,  on  which  it  mainly 


SHAP.  via.  Of  Memory.  1L1 

depends.  And  nothing1  will  contribute  more  to  the  recollection  of 
thing's  at  any  future  period,  than  clear  and  distinct  conceptions  of 
them  at  the  presefnt ;  that  is  to  say,  when  they  first  become  objects 
of  our  attention ;  for  vaguely  formed  and  indefinite  notions  will 
leave  no  permanent  traces  on  the  mind. 


features  of  his  system,  and  compare  his  opinions  with  those  of  other 
authors  who  have  treated  of  the  same  subject.  By  this  means  not 
only  the  faculties  of  Conception  and  Attention,  but  the  Reasoning 
powers,  will  be  usefully  exercised  ;  and  the  best  provision  will  be 
made  for  a  distinct  recollection. 

257.  It  has  been  much  disputed,  whether  it  be  an  useful 
exercise  to  write  down  those  things  which  we  are  desirous 
to  remember ;  but  there  can  be  little  doubt,  that,  in  some 
oases,  this  may  be  exceedingly  proper ;  in  others,  not  so. 

Illus.  To  write  a  great  deal  cannot  be  highly  useful  to  the  Memo- 
ry ;  for  the  attention  is  but  too  apt  to  be  diverted  from  the  matter 
itself,  to  the  mere  manual  operation ;  but  it  is  surely  useful  to  tran- 
scribe certain  short  passages  which  we  select,  on  account  of  Lhe 
importance  or  curiosity  of  the  matters  they  contain,  and  to  which 
we,  by  this  means,  can  afterwards  conveniently  refer.  It  would 
likewise,  no  doubt,  be  very  useful  to  write  a  short  abridgment  and 
character  of  any  important  book  we  have  read  ;  or  at  least  to  state 
the  leading  tenets  of  the  work,  and  our  opinion  of  its  merits,  in  a 
few  short  paragraphs.  \Ve  should  thus  come  in  time  to  think  for 
ourselves — we  should  form  a  sort  of  register  of  our  studies,  to  which 
we  might  afterwards  refer  with  the  greatest  advantage — and  we 
would  thus  improve  the  faculties  of  Association  and  Attention.  For 
without  comparing  together  the  different  parts  of  an  author's  work, 
so  as  to  form  out  of  it  one  consistent  whole,  and  comparing  it  also 
with  the  writings  of  others  on  the  same  subject,  so  as  to  digest  the 
whole  into  a  system,  Association  will  not  be  promoted,  Attention 
will  not  b?.  increased,  and  all  our  reading  will  furnish  nothi?:^  b  t  a 
desultory  collection  of  ideas  scarcely  applicable  to  aiiy  useful 
purpose.  Professor  Person,  \vho  could  at  will  recite  any  passage 
from  the  Greek  poets,  thus  speaks  :  "  I  never  remember  any  thing- 
but  what  I  transcribe  thee  times,  or  read  over  six  times  at  the  least ; 
and  if  you  will  do  the  same  you  will  have  as  good  a  memory  ;"  and 
his  memory  was  most  excellent. 

258.  With  respect  to  the  mechanical  expedients  whi^h 
have  been  proposed  for  aiding  the  Memory,  it  does  not 
appear  that  much  real  advantage  is  to  be  expected  from 
them.  The  loci  of  the  ancients  arid  the  memorial  lines  of 
the  moderns  are  the  chief,  of  each  of  which  we  shall  give  a 
brief  illustration. 

Illus.  1.  The  intention  of  the  celebrated  loci,  or  Topical  Memory, 
of  the  ancient  rhetoricians,  was  to  facilitate  the  recollection  of  the 


112  d  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ir, 

various  heads  of  an  oration,  by  associating-  them  in  the  mind  with  the 
different  apartments  of  a  house,  or  the  various  houses  in  a  street., 
the  precise  succession  of  which  had  been  previously  rendered  fa- 
miliar to  the  mind.  The  subordinate  parts  of  the  discourse  were  to 
be  associated  with  the  furniture  of  the  rooms,  or  the  subdivisions  of 
the  houses ;  and  thus  the  whole  oration  was  to  be  suggested  to  the 
Memory  with  very  little  effort.  The  writings  of  Cicero  and  Quinc- 
tiliun  contain  a  full  account  of  this  mechanical  contrivance,  which, 
without  doubt,  is  founded  on  nature.  But  Quinctilian  candidly 
acknowledges  that  he  never  received  any  benefit  from  this  artificial 
kind  of  Memory.  The  case  was  otherwise  with  Cicero.  It  has  for 
ages  fallen  into  disuse ;  but  in  allusion  to  it,  the  heads  of  a  dis- 
course are  still  called  topics,  and  we  continue  to  say — in  thejirst 
place,  in  the  second  place,  &,c. 

Example.  Mr.  Stewart  gives  an  instance  of  Topical  Memory.  It 
is  this.  A  young  woman,  in  a  very  low  rank  of  life,  contrived  a 
method  of  committing  to  memory  the  sermons  she  was  accustomed 
to  hear,  by  fixing  her  attention  during  the  different  heads  of  the 
discourse,  on  different  compartments  of  the  roof  of  a  church,  in 
such  a  manner,  as  that  when  she  afterwards  saw  the  roof,  or  recol- 
lected the  order  in  which  its  compartments  were  disposed,  she  recol- 
lected the  method  which  the  preacher  had  observed  in  treating  his 
subject. 

Ittus.  2.  The  memorial  lines,  or  verses,  are  more  useful  than  the 
method  of  loci,  since  by  the  substitution  of  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet  for  the  numeral  characters,  we  can  easily  commit  to  Me- 
mory certain  dates,  measures,  computations,  and  other  things. 
Gray's  Jlfenwria  Tec/mica,  a  small  volume  on  this  artificial  help,  con- 
tains an  ample  collection  of  such  memorial  verses.  There  is  also  a 
small  volume  by  Mr.  Jackson,  on  "  a  new  and  improved  system  of 
Mnemonics,  or  the  Art  of  Memory,  applied  to  Figures,  Chronology, 
Geography,  Statistics,  History,  and  Poetry,  illustrated  with  many 
plates."  This  is  an  ingenious  little  book,  founded  on  Watts's 
Improvement  of  the  Mind ;  and  its  brevity  and  perspicuity  entitle  it 
to  notice  in  every  work  on  intellectual  philosophy.  M.  Feinagle, 
too,  has  published  a  new  Art  of  Memory,  adapted  to  the  meanest 
capacity,  and  its  application  is  rather  a  source  of  amusement  than 
labour.  It  possesses  all  the  advantages  of  the  methods  which  pre- 
ceded its  developement,  and,  as  a  whole,  is  perhaps  superior  to  any 
book  on  this  art,  that  has  yet  appeared.  But  this  important  object, 
it  would  seem,  can  be  accomplished  only  by  cultivating  those  exer- 
tions of  the  mind  on  which  the  faculty  of  Memory  depends — name- 
ly, Attention  and  the  Association  of  Ideas. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  IMAGINATION. 

259.  IMAGINATION  is  the  faculty  which  makes  a  selection 
of  (|iialities  and  circumstances  from  a  variety  of  different 


«HAP.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  115 

objects,  and  by  combining  and  disposing  these,  forms  new 
creations  of  its  own.    (See  JirL  97.  No.  IX.) 

Obs.  1.  Thus,  Imagination  is  distinguished  from  Abstraction,  in 
'which  we  endeavour  to  generalize.  Imagination  invests  objects 
with  all  their  qualities,  real  or  fictitious :  it  exerts  itself  in  matters 
which  we  know  to  be  real,  as  well  as  in  matters  which  we  invent,  or 
believe  to  be  fictitious.  (See  Chapter  VI.  on  Abstraction,  Sections 
ii.  and  in.) 

2.  The  distinction  between  Imagination  and  Conception,  was  fully 
drawn  in  ARTICLE  141.  and  its  Illustratio?i  and  Note,  to  which,  there- 
fore, to  avoid  the  tediousness  of  repetition,  the  reader  is  referred. 

I.  Analysis  of  the  Operations  of  Imagination. 
260.  The  operations  of  the  faculty  of  Imagination  are 
general,  extending  to  the  representation  of  notions  or  com- 
binations of  thought,  as  well  as  of  sensible  impressions 
originally  made  on  the  external  organs ;  and,  if  we  establish 
this,  we  shall  have  proved  that  the  province  of  Imagination 
is  not  barely  limited  to  objects  of  sight. 

Him.  1.  Although  the  greater  part  of  the  materials  which  Ima- 
gination combines,  be  supplied  by  the  sense  of  sight,  it  is  never- 
theless indisputable,  that  our  other  perceptive  faculties  also  contri- 
bute their  share.     How  many  pleasing  images,  says  Mr.  Stewart, 
have  been  borrowed  from  the  fragrance  of  the  fields  and  the  melo- 
dy of  the  groves ;  not  to  mention  that  sister  art,  whose  magical 
influence  over  the  human  frame,  it  has  been,  in  all  ages  the  high- 
est boast  of  poetry  to  celebrate  !  In  the  following  passage,   even 
the  more  gross  sensations  of  taste  form  the  subject  of  an  ideal  re- 
past, on  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  dwell  with  some  complacency  ; 
particularly  after  the  perusal  of  the  preceding  lines,  in  which  the 
poet  describes  "  the  wonders  of  the  torrid  zone." 
Bear  me,  Pomona  !  to  thy  citron  groves  ; 
To  where  the  lemen  and  the  piercing  lime, 
With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  thro'  the  green, 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclin'd 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind  that  shakes, 
Fann'd  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit ; 
Or,  stretched  amid  these  orchards  of  the  sun, 
O  let  me  drain  the  cocoa's  milky  bowl, 
More  bounteous  far  than  all  the  frantic  juice 
Which  Bacchus  pours  !  Nor  on  its  slender  twigs 
Low  bending,  be  the  pomegranate  scorn'd ; 
Nor  creeping  through  the  woods,  the  gelid  race 
Of  berries  :  oft  in  humble  station  dwells 
Unboastful  worth,  above  fastidious  pomp, 
Witness,  thou  best  Anana,  thou  the  pride 
Of  vegetable  life,  beyond  whatever 
The  poets  imag'd  in  the  golden  age  : 

11 


114  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  HOOK  (i 

Quick  let  me  strip  thee  of  thy  spicy  coat,  ~ 
Spread  thy  ambrosial  stores,  and  feast  with  Jove. 

THOMSON'S  SUMMEB, 

Carol.  This  quotation  shews  how  inadequate  a  notion  of  the  pro- 
vince of  Imagination,  (considered  even  in  its  reference  to  the 
sensible  world,)  we  must  entertain,  if  we  would  limit  its  operations 
to  objects  of  sight  merely. 

£61.  But  the  sensible  world,  ia  its  widest  range,  is  not 
the  only  field  in  which  Imagination  exerts  her  powers. 
AH  the  objects  of  human  knowledge  supply  materials  to  her 
forming  hand ;  diversifying  infinitely  the  works  she  produ- 
ces, while  the  mode  of  her  operation  remains  essentially 
uniform. 

Illus.  1.  Thus  the  Imagination  becomes  a  bond  of  association  for 
those  intellectual  processes,  which  are  constantly  going  on  in  the 
mind,  and  acts  a  principal  part  in  those  creations  of  Fancy,  which, 
derived  from  an  union  of  Abstraction,  Generalization,  and  Taste, 
constitutes  works  of  genius  in  the  fine  arts.  The  Imagination  does 
not  abstract  nor  generalize,  but  it  reproduces  and  supplies  materials 
for  these  several  processes,  according  to  the  laws  of  association, 
which  regulate  the  procedure  of  the  mind,  in  its  recollections  and 
combinations. 

2.  As  it  is  the  same  power  of  reasoning  which  enables  us  to  carry 
on  our  investigations  with  respect  to  individual  objects,,  and  with 
respect  to  classes  and  genera ;  so  it  was  by  the  same  processes  of 
analysis  and  combination,  that  the  genius  of  Milton  produced  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  (Illus.  2.  Jirt.  264.)  that  of  Harrington,  the  Com- 
monwealth of  Oceana,  (Art.  187.  Illus.  1.)  and  that  of  Shakespeare, 
the  characters  of  Hamlet  and  Sir  John  Falstaflf. 

Carol.  The  difference  between  these  several  efforts  of  invention, 
consists  only  in  the  manner  in  which  the  original  materials  were 
acquired  ;  as  far  as  the  power  of  Imagination  is  concerned,  the  pro- 
cesses appear,  to  my  mind,  to  be  perfectly  analogous. 

£62.  The  mind,  however,  has  a  greater  facility,  and,  of 
consequence,  a  greater  delight  in  recalling  the  perceptions 
of  the  sense  of  sight,  than  those  of  any  of  the  other  senses, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  variety  of  the  qualities  perceiv* 
ed  by  it  is  incomparably  greater. 

'Illus.  It  is  this  sense,  accordingly,  which  supplies  the  painter  and 
the  statuary  with  all  the  subjects  on  which  their  genius  is  exercised. 
It  is  this  sense,  too,  which  furnishes  to  the  descriptive  poet,  the 
largest  and  the  most  valuable  portion  of  the  materials  which  he 
combines.  It  is  observed  by  Mr.  Stewart,  that  in  that  absurd  spe- 
cies of  prose  composition  also,  which  borders  upon  poetry,  nothing 
is  more  remarkable  than  the  predominance  of  phrases  that  recal  to 
the  memory,  glaring  colours,  and  those  splendid  appearances  of  na- 
ture, which  make  a  strong  impression  on  the  eye.  Thus,  in  the 
oriental  style,  the  greater  part  of  the  metaphors  are  taken  from  the 
celestial  luminaries  ;  and  the  works  of  the  Persians,  as  is  observed 


.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  115 

by  Voltaire,  are  like  the  titles  of  their  kings,  in  which  we  are  per- 
petually dazzled  "with  the  sun,  and  the  ?noo?i)  and  the  stars.  The 
juvenile  productions  of  every  author,  possessed  of  a  warm  Imagi- 
nation, partake  of  this  characteristic  ;  and  the  compositions  of  eve- 
ry people,  among*  whom  a  cultivated  and  philosophical  taste  has 
not  established  a  sufficiently  marked  distinction  between  the  ap- 
propriate styles  of  poetry  and  prose,  partake  sufficiently  of  the 
infantine  reveries  of  poetic  genius,  to  show  why  the  word  Imagina- 
tion, in  its  most  ordinary  acceptation,  should  be  applied  to  cases 
where  our  conceptions  are  derived  from  the  sense  of  sight  /  although 
the  province  of  this  power  be,  in  fact,  as  unlimited  as  the  sphere 
<>f  human  enjoyment  and  of  human  thought.  But  in  these  illustra- 
tions we  may  clearly  trace  the  origin  of  the  word  Imagination  :  the- 
ctymology  of  which  implies  manifestly  a  reference  to  "visible  objects. 

263.  The  mind  forms  combinations  out  of  the  materials 
supplied  by  the  power  of  Conception  ;  and  these  combina- 
tions recommend  themselves  strongly  to  our  constitution^ 
both  by  their  simplicity,  and  by  the  interesting  nature  of  the 
discussions  to  which  they  lead. 

Obs.  The  arts  of  poetry  and  painting  furnish  the  most  pleasing1 
and  instructive  illustrations  of  the  operations  and  intellectual  pro- 
cesses of  Imagination.  In  those  analogous  exemplifications  of  this 
faculty,  which  fall  under  the  observation  of  the  moralist,  the  mind 
deviates  from  the  models  presented  to  it  by  experience,  and  forms 
to  itself  new  and  untried  objects  of  pursuit.  And  how  little  so- 
ever such  processes  may  be  attended  to,  they  are  habitually  pas- 
sing in  the  thoughts  of  all  men  ;  and  it  is  in  consequence  of  these 
processes  that  human  affairs  exhibit  so  busy  and  so  various  a  scene  ; 
tending  in  one  case  to  improvement,  and,  in  another,  to  decline  ; 
according  as  our  notions  of  excellence  and  happiness  are  just  or 
erroneous. 

264.  But  besides  Conception,  or  simple  Apprehension ? 
which  enables  us  to  form  a  notion  of  those  former  objects 
of  perception  or  of  knowledge,  out  of  which  we  are  to  make 
a  selection  ;  Imagination  includes  Abstraction,  which  sepa- 
rates the  selected  materials  from  the  qualities  and  circum- 
stances which  are  connected   with  them  in  nature ;  and 
Judgment,  or  Taste,  too,  which  selects  the  materials  and 
directs  their  combination.     Nor  does  this  complex  power 
include  only  those  powers  we  have  just  enumerated,  and  to 
which,  under  Conception  and  Abstraction,  we  have  shewn, 
their  alliance ;  but  that  particular  habit  of  association  also, 
to  which  we  gave  the  name  of  Fancy,  when  illustrating  the 
pleasing  effect  of  simile,  poetical  allusion,  and  allegorv. 
(See  Article  208.) 

Illus.  1.  FANCY  collects  materials  for  the  Imagination,  (  Corol.  2. 
r.£r/,  20$.)  and  though  her  principal  stores  are  commonly  suppo* 


116  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOKJI, 

sed  to  be  borrowed  from  the  material  world,  as  the  metaphorical 
language  of  the  poet,  and  his  analogies,  which  are  the  foundation 
of  his  allusions,  but  too  forcibly  prove ;  yet  the  favourite  excursions 
of  Fancy  are  from  intellectual  and  moral  subjects  to  the  appear- 
ances with  which  our  senses  are  conversant,  (Art.  261.  Him.  1.) 
In  a  word,  wherever  her  stores  may  be  treasured  up,  in  what  di- 
rection soever  her  flights  may  be  taken,  it  is  Fancy  which  presents 
to  our  choice  all  the  different  materials  which  are  subservient  to 
the  efforts  of  Imagination,  and  which  may  therefore  be  considered 
as  forming  the  ground-work  of  poetical  genius. 

2.  This  illustration  is  confirmed  by  an  analysis  of  the  steps  by 
which  Milton  must  have  proceeded  in  creating  his  imaginary  Gar- 
den of  Eden,  flllus.  2.  Art.  261.)  When  he  first  proposed  to  him- 
self that  subject  of  description,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
his  Fancy  crowded  into  his  mind  a  variety  of  the  most  striking 
scenes  which  he  had  seen.  The  Association  of  ideas  would  sug- 
gest those  scenes  ;  the  combinations  of  Fancy  would  link  such  as 
might  be  real  or  imaginative,  and  fit  objects  of  description ;  the 
power  of  conception  would  place  each  of  them  before  him  with  all 
its  beauties  and  imperfections.  For  in  every  natural  scene,  which 
we  may  destine  for  a  particular  purpose,  there  are  defects  and  re- 
dundancies, which  art  may  sometimes,  but  cannot  always,  correct. 
And  as  objects  may  be  imagined  separately  or  jointly — as  the 
power  of  Imagination  is  unlimited — as,  in  the  separate  images  of 
things,  she  can  consider  their  real  or  possible  qualities  and  circum- 
stances,— as,  in  their  joint  images,  she  can  consider  their  similitude,, 
analogy  and  opposition — as  she  can  create  and  annihilate  ;  Milton, 
accordingly,  would  not  copy  his  EDEN  from  any  one  scene,  but 
would  select  from  each  the  features  which  were  most  eminently 
beautiful.  The  power  of  Abstraction  enabled  him  to  make  the 
separation,  and  Taste  directed  him  in  the  selection.  Thus  was 
Milton  furnished  with  his  materials,  by  a  skilful  combination  of 
which  he  has  created  a  landscape,  more  perfect,  probably,  in  all  its 
parts,  than  was  ever  seen  by  any  writer  who  has  attempted  to  de- 
scribe nature. 

Corol.  1.  Since,  then,  Imagination  is  not  a  simple  power  of  the 
mind,  but  a  combination  of  various  faculties,  it  must  appear  under 
very  different  forms  in  the  case  of  different  individuals.  And  since 
the  variety  of  the  materials  out  of  which  the  combinations  of  the 
poet  or  the  painter  are  formed,  will  depend  much  on  the  tendency 
of  external  situation,  to  store  the  mind  with  a  multiplicity  of  con- 
ceptions, and  the  beauty  of  those  combinations  will  depend  entirely 
pn  the  success  with  which  the  power  of  Taste  has  been  cultivated ; 
it  is  further  evident,  that  its  component  parts  are  liable  to  be  great- 
Iv  influenced  bv  habit  and  other  accidental  circumstances.  (~Art. 
128.  Ilhis.) 

2.  The  illustrations  which  have  been  offered  of  the  power  of 
Imagination,  according  to  the  reasoning  of  Mr.  Stewart,  lead  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  power  is  not  the  gift  of  nature,  but  the  result  of 
acquired  habits,  aided  by  favourable  circumstances  ;  that  it  is  not 
an  original  endowment  of  the  mind,  but  an  accomplishment  formed 
by  experience  and  situation;  and  which,  in  its  different  gradations* 


CHAP.  ix.  Of  Imagination,  I  If 

fills  up  all  the  interval  between  the  first  efforts  of  untutored  genius 
and  the  sublime  creations  of  Raphael  or  of  Milton.  (See  Jlrt.  275. 
and  Illus.  J 

265.  That  men  differ  from  each  other  greatly  in  the 
ferce  of  their  Imagination,  or  in  the  power  of  forming  or 
conceiving  new  creations  and  combinations,  is  matter  of 
the  most  familiar  observation.     And,  as  far  as  the  term 
genius  has  yet  been  distinctly  limited,  it  appears  to  denote 
a  facility  in  forming  such  combinations.     This,  in  fact,  is 
the  proper  province  of  invention,  which  is  the  peculiar  pre- 
rogative of  genius ;  for  this  can  have  no  farther  range  than 
an  analysis,  and  new  disposition,  of  the  various  objects 
which  nature  presents  to  us ;  and  never  can  extend  to  a 
new  creation  of  its  own,  in  the  strict  and  proper  sense  of 
the  word. 

Illus.  Thus,  a  blind  man,  let  his  invention  be  ever  so  lively, 
could  never  discover  a  new  property  of  light.  And,  according-  to 
this  view  of  the  subject,  a  man  of  genius  is  no  more  than  a  man  of 
active  Imagination  ;  and  though  both  terms  are  more  usually  ap- 
propriated to  literary  eminence,  yet,  if  we  take  them  in  this  sense, 
the  inventor  in  mechanics,  in  mathematics,  in  agriculture,  or  in  any 
of  the  useful  arts,  or  pursuits  of  life,  is  as  much  entitled  to  the 
appellation  of  a  man  of  Genius  and  Imagination,  as  the  poet,  the 
painter,  and  the  orator. 

266.  A  passive  Imagination  is  that  which  is  limited  to  a 
ready  conception  of  new  combinations,  when  suggested  to 
it,  but  it  does  not  extend  to  the  original  formation  of  such 
combinations.     And  that  there  does  exist  such  a  species  of 
Imagination,  we  think  is  evident,  from  the  proof  contained 
in  the  following  illustration. 

Illus.  This  kind  of  Imagination  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  consti- 
tute a  man  of  genius,  yet  it  seems  to  furnish  the  proper  qualifica- 
tion for  the  man  of  taste,  since  it  enables  him  to  relish  and  appre- 
ciate the  productions  of  genius,  although  not  to  rival  and  excel  in 
them.  Of  the  two  qualifications,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the 
latter  does  not  most  contribute  to  real  enjoyment.  The  pleasures 
which  the  man  of  fine  taste  derives  from  contemplating  the  pro- 
ductions of  genius,  is  scarcely  inferior  to  the  high  relish  which  the 
exercise  of  invention  itself  imparts  ;  and  the  inventive  Imagination 
of  the  man  of  genius,  is  but  too  apt  to  conjure  up  phantoms  for  his 
own  torment ;  and  to  burn  with  jealousies,  which  his  fancy  knows 
but  too  well  how  to  feed.  The  histories  of  Rousseau,  Chatterton, 
Swift,  Johnson,  and  other  geniuses  of  heated,  or  of  gloomy  Imagina- 
tions, afford  ample  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  this  fact. 

267.  That  belief  may  be  attached  to  certain  operations 
of  the  Imagination,  which  are  then  mistaken  for  realities, 

11* 


118  A  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  ir^ 

and  produce  as  remarkable  effects  upon  the  individual,  as 
if  they  were  the  very  things  they  are  mistaken  for,  is  a  fact 
none  will  dispute,  who  have  attended  to  the  inexplicable 
phenomena  of  the  human  mind,  in  the  case  of  those  unfor- 
tunate persons  who  are  in  the  state  of  hypochondriacs,  or 
imaginary  invalids. 

Illus.  1.  The  wildest  suggestions  of  the  Imagination  impress 
upon  these  unfortunate  persons  the  full  conviction  of  reality ;  and 
all  the  reasoning  of  their  friends,  or  physicians,  is  insufficient  to 
convince  them  that  they  are  formed  like  other  men,  and  have  not. 
some  part  of  their  bodies,  either  unnaturally  distorted,  or  fashioned 
of  different  materials  from  flesh,  and  blood,  and  bones.  When 
hypochondriasis  arrives  at  this  height,  it  makes  a  near  approach  to 
certain  stages  of  madness;  and  if  the  physician  should  deny  that 
the  bodily  disease  exists  of  which  his  patient  complains,  he  must 
yet  allow  that  there  is  a  real  disease  of  the  mind.  The  Imagina- 
tion of  the  hypochondriac  is  not  so  much  bewildered  as  it  is  lost  in 
absurdities.  And  when  the  actions,  the  looks,  and  the  language  of 
any  person  whom  we  respect,  or  with  whom  we  have  had  an  ac- 
quaintance, shew  that  his  mind  has  been  soured  by  cruel  vicissi- 
tudes in  life — his  hopes  of  domestic  happiness  blasted  by  keen 
disappointment — his  affections  withered  by  the  loss  of  some  being 
who  had  just  begun  to  cherish  them, — or  his  brain  set  on  fire  by 
treachery  and  ingratitude,  in  those  from  whom  he  had  a  right  to 
expect  fidelity  and  kindness — or  his  faculties  deluged  by  a  chaos  of 
businessj  which  he  had  neither  the  ingenuity  to  arrange,  nor  the 
Resolution  to  abandon,  for  his  own  peace  and  ease — or  beclouded 
by  the  re-action  of  a  distempered  conscience, — when,  in  one  word, 
a  congregation  of  unlooked-for,  and,  as  the  individual  is  almost 
always  sure  to  imagine,  unmerited  calamities,  give  such  a  view  of 
human  affairs,  as  to  represent  life  a  scene  of  mere  illusions  ;  then  is 
that  mortal  forlorn  indeed ;  but  still  he  is  less  an  object  of  pity  than 
those  unfeeling  brutes  who  can  sport  with  so  sublime  a  picture  of 
mysterious  wretched  man  ; — and,  it  is  ten  to  one,  the  spirit  of  the 
being'  we  have  sketched,  like  a  lonely  centinel  guarding  the  ashes 
of  his  general,  in  moody  solitude,  yet  loves  to  keep  house  with  its 
friendless  subject,  now  more  to  be  compassioned  and  wooed  to 
reason  and  sprightliness,  than  spurned  and  shunned  for  his  imbe- 
cility and  dulness. 

2.  This  is  no  overcharged  picture — I  have  had  very  much  inter- 
course with  its  original,  and  from  communion  with  the  operation  of 
the  faculty  now  under  consideration,  I  am  willing  it  should  be  re- 
corded. But  the  following  is  a  striking  case  of  hypochondriasis 
within,  perhaps,  the  precincts  of  madness.  Monsieur  Pinel  is  the 
physician  of  an  hospital  of  lunatics  in  Paris,  and,  from  his  amiable 
manners  and  gentle  treatment  of  his  patients,  receives  no  other 
name,  from  the  most  ferocious,  than  "  papa ;"  and  from  the  females 
of  that — 

"  Gay  sprightly  land  of  mirth  and  social  ease," 
the  courtesy  of  their  sex — the  compliment  of  a  salutation.     This  is 
treating  mad-folks  as  they  ought  to  be  treated,  and  forms  a  brilliaut 


CHAP.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  11& 

contrast  to  the  brutal  system  of  cudgelling",  adopted  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  illustrious,  or  the  man  of  genius,  by  some  of  our  own 
physicians.  A  patient  was  brought  to  Monsieur  Pin  el,  accusing 
himself  of  having  denounced  many  persons  to  the  revolutionary 
tribunals  during  the  reign  of  terror.  M.  Pinel  heard  from  the  lips 
of  this  patient  his  own  tale  of  woe ;  and  adopted  the  following 
method  of  treatment,  or  cure.  As  the  lunatic  wanted  to  be  brought 
to  justice,  for  having  brought  many  virtuous  and  good  citizens  to 
the  block,  M.  Pinel  had  his  patient  brought  to  trial.  The  court 
consisted  of  M.  Pinel  and  other  physicians,  in  the  capacity  of  judges. 
Some  of  the  medical  students  bore  the  characters  and  assumed  the 
offices  of  counsel  against  and  for  the  accused.  On  an  appointed 
day  the  poor  lunatic  was  earned  from  his  cell  to  the  tribunal  of 
justice,  or,  in  other  words,  to  a  saloon  of  the  hospital,  where  every 
thing  bore  the  appearance  of  a  criminal  court.  He  was  placed  at 
its  bar ;  the  charges  were  preferred  against  him,  as  himself  had 
developed  his  imaginaiy  crimes  to  M.  Pinel ;  these  charges  were 
substantiated  by  pretended  eye  and  ear  witnesses.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  lunatic,  as  he  had  revealed  to  M.  Pinel,  had  to  value 
himself  on  many  good  deeds  which  he  had  rendered  to  his  fellow- 
citizens  during  the  phrenzy  of  the  Revolution.  The  counsel  for  the 
accused,  in  their  defence,  brought  witnesses  to  support  these  ser- 
vices, and  urged  their  weight  against  the  charges  of  the  Attorney- 
General.  M,  Pinel,  who  acted  as  chief  judge,  summed  up  the 
evidence.  The  crimes  of  the  prisoner  amounted  to  so  many  ;  his 
essential  good  deeds  to  so  many  more  than  the  former.  This  pre- 
ponderance the  jury  were  charged  to  well  consider,  in  giving  their 
verdict.  They  did  so — they  found  the  prisoner  guilty  of  such  and 
such  things,  but  he  had  done  so  much  good  to  the  nation,  that  he 
was  still  an  object  of  mercy ;  and,  therefore,  they  recommended 
him  to  mercy.  The  sentence  of  the  court  was,  that  the  accused 
should  be  kept  in  confinement  for  three  months,  and  then  set  at 
liberty.  Before  the  trial  was  ended,  the  unfortunate  man  was 
nearly  as  free  from  hypochondriasis  as  his  judges,  and,  long  before 
the  period  of  his  sentence  had  expired,  M.  Pinel  restored  him 
to  his  friends  quite  well.  But,  unhappily,  one  of  the  students 
chanced,  some  time  after,  to  mention  in  a  company  the  case  we 
have  now  described ;  and  its  subject  happened  to  be  one  of  the 
company.  The  effect  was  like  a  shock  of  electricity  upon  him. 
His  Imagination  instantly  lost  its  equipoise,  and  he  relapsed  into  his 
former  unfortunate  state  of  hypochondriasis  ;  and  he  was  not  again 
to  be  cheated  into  sanity  by  M.  Pinel.  I  relate  this  case  from  me- 
mory, on  the  authority  of  two  gentlemen,  who  attended  as  students 
the  hospital  which  M.  Pinel  governs. 

268.  But  even  when  the  intellects  are  in  a  comparatively 
sound  state,  the  visions  of  the  Imagination  may  be  made  to 
produce,  in  certain  persons,  all  the  effects  of  reality.  The 
success  of  certain  empirical  impositions,  among  which  we 
may  particularize  the  Animal  Magnetism  of  Mesmer,  and 
the  Tractors  of  Perkins,  sufficiently  establish  this  fact. 


i£(J  itf  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n*1 

lllus.  1.  The  reign  of  animal  magnetism  is  now  over;  but  its  fame 
was  rapidly  circulated,  and  its  wonders  detailed  and  swallowed 
with  avidity.  The  most  incredulous  could  not  deny  the  reality  of 
its  effects;  as  convulsions  were  produced,  and  strong  bodily  agita- 
tions excited,  in  persons  who  could  not  be  suspected  of  lending 
their  aid  to  the  imposture.  But  the  examination  of  the  Academy 
of  Sciences  at  Paris  dispelled  the  illusion,  and  satisfactorily  estab- 
lished that,  as  far  as  the  effects  were  real,  they  were  to  be  ascribed 
merely  to  the  influence  of  the  Imagination. 

2.  The  more  modern  quackery  of  the  metallic  tractors,  seems 
fairly  reducible,  says  Mr.  Scott,  to  the  same  class.  If  these  ever 
produced  a  real  cure,  the  effect  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  influence 
of  the  Imagination,  and  not  to  the  virtue  of  the  metal.  This 
seems,  indeed,  to  be  completely  established  by  Dr.  Haygarth,  who 
found  that  his  patients  thought  themselves  equally  benefited, 
whether  he  employed  the  tractors  of  Perkins,  or  tractors  of  his  own 
manufacture,  or  even  tractors  of  wood,  coloured  so  as  to  resemble 
those  of  metal.  (See  his  "  Treatise  on  the  Imagination,  as  a  Cause 
and  Cure  of  Disease.") 

Corol  This  influence  of  the  Imagination  on  the  corporeal  frame, 
forms  one  feature  of  the  mysterious  union  between  the  body  awl 
mind,  in  consequence  of  which,  the  one  cannot  be  affected  without 
some  corresponding  change  in  the  other; -an  union  so  difficult  to 
be  comprehended,  although  of  its  reality  we  have  the  testimony  of 
our  daily  experience. 

II.  Of  Imagination  in  its  Relation  to  some  of  the  Fine  Arts. 

269.  Among  the  arts  which-  are  connected  with  the 
faculty  of  Imagination,  some  not  only  take  their  rise  from 
it,  but  produce  objects  which  are  directly  addressed  to  this 
power.  Others  result  from  Imagination,  but  produce  objects 
which  are  addressed  to  the  power  of  perception. 

Illus.  1.  GARDENING,  or  the  art  of  creating  landscape,  belongs  to 
the  latter  of  those  two  classes.  For,  here,  Nature  limits  the  de- 
signer in  his  creations;  and  his  utmost  efforts  are  to  correct,  to 
improve,  and  to  adorn.  In  some  arts,  the  designer,  to  observe  the 
effect  of  his  plans,  can  repeat  his  experiments  ;  but  the  landscape 
gardener  cannot  do  this,  and  must  therefore  conjure  up,  in  his  Ima- 
gination, the  entire  scene  he  intends  to  produce.  His  taste  and 
judgment  must  before -hand  be  applied  to  this  imaginary  scene,  that 
he  may  have  a  lively  conception  of  the  effect  which  it  will  actually 
produce  when  exhibited  to  the  senses  of  others. 

Corol.  The  landscape  thus  produced  is,  therefore,  a  copy  of  the 
picture  which  the  artist's  Imagination,  by  the  "  prophetic  eye  of 
taste,"  had  seen  long  before  all  its  beauties  were  born ;  and  the 
scene  which  he  exhibits,  in  a  finished  state,  being  addressed  to  the 
senses,  may  produce  its  full  effect  on  the  minds  of  others,  without 
any  effort  on  their  part  either  of  Imagination  or  of  Conception. 

Obs.  The  foregoing  illustration  directs  itself  merely  to  the  natu- 
ral effects  produced  by  a  landscape,  and  the  reader  is  left  to  supply, 


CHAP.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  l£i 

in  his  own  Imagination,  the  pleasure  which  may  result  from  the 
uccidental  association  of  ideas  with  a  particular  scene, 

Illus.  2.  The  painter  who  paints  a  faithful  copy  of  an  individual 
object,  whether  it  be  a  portrait  or  a  landscape,  or  some  particular 
scene  for  the  stage,  is  not  permitted  to  indulge  in  Imagination. 
But  when  he  conceives  some  subject  for  a  painting,  for  which  he 
has  no  copy,  the  original  idea  must  be  formed  in  the  Imagination  ; 
and,  that  the  picture  may  produce  the  effect  on  the  mind  of  the 
spectator  which  the  artist  has  in  view,  the  exercise  of  Imagination 
must  concur  with  perception. 

Corol.  Painting,  therefore,  has  something  in  common  with  those 
arts  which  not  only  take  their  fise  from  the  power  of  Imagination, 
but  produce  objects  which  are  addressed  to  it,  and  with  those  arts 
also  which  take  their  rise  from  Imagination,  but  produce  objects 
which  are  addressed  to  the  power  of  perception. 

film.  3.  In  poetry,  and  in  every  species  of  descriptive  composi- 
tion, the  power  of  the  Imagination  is  requisite  both  to  the  author 
and  the  reader  ;  to  the  former,  to  present  to  the  mind  of  another 
the  objects  of  his  own  Imagination  ;  and  to  the  latter,  to  form  in 
his  mind  a  distinct  picture  of  what  is  described.  But  no  two  per- 
sons possess  Imagination  in  the  same  degree,  or  those  other  powers, 
abstraction,  conception,  and  association,  on  the  proper  exercise  of 
which  the  full  display  of  Imagination  depends;  and  therefore, 
though  both  may  be  pleased,  the  agreeable  impressions  that  each 
may  feel,  may  be  widely  different  from  those  of  the  other,  accord' 
ing  as  the  pictures  by  which  those  impressions  are  produced,  may 
be  more  or  less  happily  imagined. 

4.  In  landscape  gardening,  the  designs  of  Kent,  of  Brown,  and  of 
Loudon  evince,  in  their  authors,  a  degree  of  Imagination  analogous 
1»o  that  of  the  descriptive  poet;  and  whatever  they  have  designed 
meets  the  eye  of  every  spectator,  bating  always  the  beauties  and 
pleasures  resulting  to  some  individuals  from  association.     But  in 
poetry,   the  reader  must  actually  possess  some   degree   of  the 
author's  genius,  and  a  mind  furnished  by  previous  habits,  with  the 
means  of  interpreting  his  language,  to  be  able,  by  his  own  Imagina- 
tion, to  co-operate  with  the  efforts  of  the  author. 

5.  In  article  195,  it  was  observed,  that  "  the  fluctuating  state  of 
language  does  not  permit  general  names  always  to  retain  the  same 
precise  signification ;"  and  we  may  here  add,  that  general  words, 
which  express  complex  ideas,  seldom  convey  precisely  the  same 
meaning  to  different  individuals ;  hence  arises  the  ambiguity  of  lan- 
guage, in  respect  to  sensible  objects.     For  who,  for  example,  in  a  de- 
scriptive composition,  attaches  the  same  precise  idea  to  the  words 
river,  grove,  mountain  ?    The  youth,  the  man  of  lively  Imagination, 
has  a  very  different  conception  of  those  words  from  another  youth 
or  another  man  of  a  blunt  Imagination.     The  former  thinks  of  some 
particular  river,  grove,  mountain,  that  has  made  an  impression  on  his 
mind ;  the  latter,  destitute  of  any  such  impression,  and  perhaps  a 
native  of  London,  would  think  of  the  Thames,  Hornsey  Wood,  and 
the  Surrey  Hills.     The  youth  who  has  been  educated  at  Eton,  at 
"Winchester,  or   at  Harrow,   would  be   in   the  same  predicament 
with  him  who  had  received  the  rudiments  of  his  education  at  West- 
minster.    For  myself,  I  ever  think  with  delight  of  the  little  Island 


122  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ir, 

of  Bute,  where  I  was  born,  and  partly  educated ;  its  wood-crowned 
hills,  its  lakes,  its  rocky  coast,  its  ancient  csstle,  whence  the  Prince 
of  Wales  derives  the  title  of  Duke  of  Rothsay ;  my  ancient  and 
venerable  masters  Macartney  and  Mackinlay  ;  the  recollection  of 
early  friendships  and  all  those  agreeable  ideas  associated  with  the 
scenes  of  childhood  and  of  youth,  rush  spontaneously  on  my  mind, 
and  would  afford  many  pleasing"  descriptions  were  they  thrown  to- 
gether in  some  boyish  tale.  Every  man  feels  the  same  ;  every 
"youth  will  assent  to  this  :  and  it  sufficiently  establishes  the  position 
we  have  in  hand,  provided  always  common  sense  be  our  guide. 
But,  to  fill  up  any  descriptive  picture,  both  Imagination  and  Con- 
ception are  requisite ;  hence  those  who  have  seen  Loch  Catherine 
will  be  able  to  judge  correctly  of  Walter  Scott's  description  of  that 
charming  scene  ;  and  those  who  have  visited  Florence,  Athens,  and 
Home,  as  they  now  are,  can  judge  of  lord  Byron's  pictures  of  those 
places,  and  of  their  inhabitants.  And  the  foregoing  reasoning 
leads  to  the  inference,  that  in  descriptive  composition,  much  is  left 
to  be  supplied  by  the  Imagination  of  the  reader,  on  whose  mind 
the  effect  will  be  in  the  direct  ratio  of  his  own  invention  and  taste 
to  that  of  the  author's,  or  that  with  which  the  picture  is  finished. 

Corol.  1.  It  is  therefore,  possible,  on  the  one  hand,  as  is  remarked 
by  Mr.  Stewart,  that  the  happiest  efforts  of  poetical  genius  may  be 
perused  with  perfect  indifference  by  a  man  of  sound  judgment,  and 
not  destitute  of  natural  sensibility,  and  on  the  other  hand,  that  a 
cold  and  common-place  description  may  be  the  means  of  awaken- 
ing, in  a  rich  and  glowing  Imagination,  a  degree  of  enthusiasm 
unknown  to  the  author. 

2.  The  primary  object  in  these  arts  which  we  have  mentioned,  is 
•io  please  ;  and  this  circumstance  distinguishes  poetry  from  philoso- 
phical compositions,  which  usually  have  for  their  object  to  inform 
and  enligliten  mankind;  and  also  from  oratory,  whose  object  is  to 
acquire  an  ascendant  over  the  will  of  others,  by  bending  to  the 
speaker's  purposes,  their  judgments,  their  imaginations,  and  their 
passions. 

III.  The  Relation  of  Imagination  and  of  Taste  to  Genius. 

270.  Persons  accustomed  to  analyse  and  combine  their 
conceptions,  may  acquire  ideas  of  beauty  far  above  any 
which  they  have  seen  realized.  A  habit  *of  forming  such 
mental  combinations,  and  of  remarking  their  effect  on  our 
own  minds,  must,  therefore,  contribute  to  exalt  the  Taste  to 
a  degree  which  it  never  can  attain  in  those  people  who 
study  to  improve  it  by  the  observation  and  comparison  only 
of  external  objects.  (STEWART.) 

Illus.  1.  Genius  in  the  fine  ails  is  nothing  more  than  a  cultiva- 
ted Taste  combined  with  a  creative  Imagination.  Without  Taste, 
Imagination  could  only  produce  a  random  analysis  and  combination 
of  our  conceptions  ;  and  without  Imagination,  Taste  would  be  des 
titute  of  the  faculty  of  invention,  These  two  ingredients  of  genius 


#fi'Ap.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  123 

may  be  mixed  log-ether  in  all  possible  proportions;  and  when  ei- 
ther is  possessed  in  a  degree  remarkably  exceeding1  uliat  falls  to 
the  ordinary  share  of  mankind,  it  may  compensate  in  some  mea- 
sure, for  a  deficiency  in  the  other.  An  uncommonly  correct  Taste, 
with  little  Imagination,  if  it  does  not  produce  works  which  excite 
admiration,  produces  at  least  nothing1  that  can  offend.  An  uncom- 
mon fertility  of  imagination,  even  when  it  offends,  excites  ou  r 
wonder  by  its  creative  powers,  and  shews  what  it  could  have  per- 
formed, had  its  exertions  been  guided  by  a  more  perfect  model. 
(STEWART.) 

2.  In  the  infancy  of  the  arts,  an  union  of  these  two  powers  in  the 
same  mind  is  necessary  for  the  production  of  every  work  of  genius. 
At  that  period  there  are  no  monuments  of  ancient  genius  on  which 
Taste  can  be  formed.  It  must  therefore  be  from  the  result  of  ex- 
periments, which  nothing  but  the  Imagination  of  every  individual 
can  enable  him  to  make,  that  Taste  can  be  formed.  At  that  period, 
therefore,  Taste,  without  Imagination,  is  impossible.  But,  as  ex- 
perience becomes  extended,  Taste  will  be  acquired,  and,  as  it 
becomes  perfect,  Imagination  will  produce  more  chaste,  more 
beautiful,  and  more  finished  pictures,  or  descriptions,  or  scenes. 

CoroL  Hence,  as  the  productions  of  genius  accumulate,  Taste 
may  be  formed  by  a  careful  perusal  of  the  works  of  others ;  and,  as 
formerly  Imagination  served  as  a  necessary  foundation  for  Taste,  so 
Taste  now  begins  to  invade  the  province  of  Imagination.  The 
multiplicity  and  variety  of  the  combinations,  which,  for  a  long  suc- 
cession of  ages,  Imagination  has  formed,  present  ample  materials 
for  a  judicious  selection.  A  high  standard  of  excellence  is  now 
continually  present  to  the  artist's  thoughts.  He  may,  therefore,  by 
industry,  assisted  by  the  most  moderate  degree  of  Imagination, 
produce,  in  time,  performances,  not  only  more  free  from  faults,  but 
incomparably  more  powerful  in  their  effects,  than  the  most  origin- 
al efforts  of  untutored  genius,  which,  guided  by  an  uncultivated 
taste,  copies  after  an  inferior  model  of  perfection. 

IV.  Of  the  Influence  of  Imagination  on  Human  Character 
and  Happiness. 

271.  The  power  of  Imagination  has  been  hitherto  consid- 
ered chiefly  as  it  is  related  to  the  arts  of  poetry,  painting,  - 
sculpture,  and  the  creation  of  landscape  ;  but  its  powerful 
influence  on  human  character  and  happiness  recommend  it 
eminently  to  the  attention  of  youth. 

Illus.  The  lower  animals,  says  Mr.  Stewart,  as  far  as  we  are  able 
to  judge,  are  entirely  occupied  with  the  objects  of  their  present 
perceptions ;  and  the  case  is  nearly  the  same  with  the  inferior 
orders  of  our  own  species.  One  of  the  principal  effects  which  a 
liberal  education  produces  on  the  mirid,  is  to  accustom  us  to  with- 
draw our  attention  from  the  objects  of  sense,  and  to  direct  it  at 
pleasure,  to  those  intellectual  combinations  which  delight  the  Ima- 
gination. And,  among  men  of  cultivated  understandings,  this 
faculty  is  possessed  in  very  unequal  degrees  by  different  individu- 


1£4  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n* 

als  ;  and  these  differences,  whether  resulting-  from  original  consti- 
tution, or  from  early  education,  lay  the  foundation  of  some  striking 
varieties  in  human  character. 

272.  That  sensibility  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the 
power  of  Imagination,  will  appear  evident  from  the  follow- 
ing illustration. 

Him.  Point  out  to  two  men  any  object  of  compassion  ;  a  man,  for 
example,  reduced  by  misfortune  from  easy  circumstances  to  indi- 
gence. The  one  feels  mereJy  in  proportion  to  what  he  perceives 
by  his  senses.  The  other 'follows,  in  Imagination,  the  unfortunate 
man  to  his  dwelling",  and  partakes  with  him  and  his  family  in  their 
domestic  distresses.  He  listens  to  their  conversation,  while  they 
recal  to  remembrance  the  flattering-  prospects  they  once  indulged  ; 
the  circle  of  friends  they  had  been  forced  to  leave ;  the  liberal 
plans  of  education  which  were  begun  and  interrupted  ;  and  pic- 
tures to  himself  all  the  various  resources  which  delicacy  and  pride 
suggest  to  conceal  poverty  from  the  world.  As  he  proceeds  in  the 
painting,  his  sensibility  increases,  and  he  weeps,  not  for  what  he 
sees,  but  for  what  he  imagines.  Granted  that  his  sensibility  ori- 
ginally roused  his  Imagination,  the  warmth  of  his  Imagination 
increased  and  prolonged  his  sensibility.  Let  any  of  my  young 
friends  take  up  the  "  Sentimental  Journey"  of  Sterne,  and  he  will 
fmd  this  position  verified  in  numerous  instances.  The  reflections  on 
tJie  state  prisons  of  France,  suggested  by  the  accidental  sight  of  a 
starling  confined  in  a  cage,  is  a  case  in  point.  And  I  have  myself, 
without  a  shadow  of  vanity  in  what  I  say,  had  several  illustrations 
of  this  remark  during  a  residence  of  ten  years  in  the  metropolis ; 
as  well  among  the  aged  and  infirm  who  had  seen  better  days,  as 
among  those  of  my  own  age,  who  have  had  the  cup  of  bliss  dashed 
from  their  lips  when  they  were  about  to  sip  its  nectar. 

273.  On  some  persons,  who  discover  no  sensibility  to  the 
distresses  of  real  life,  the  exhibitions  of  fictitious  scenes  of 
distress  produce  effects  analogous  'to  those  we  have  illus- 
trated. 

Illus.  In  a  novel  or  a  tragedy,  the  picture  is  completely  finished  in 
all  its  parts  ;  and  we  are  made  acquainted,  (as  in  "  THE  VICAR  OF 
WAKEFIELD,"  for  example,  or  "  KING  LEAR;")  not  only  with  every 
circumstance  on  which  the  distress  turns,  but  with  the  sentiments 
and  feelings  of  every  character,  with  respect  to  the  situation  of 
that  character.  In  real  life  we  see,  in  general,  only  detached  scenes 
of  the  tragedy,  and  the  impression  is  slight,  unless  Imagination 
finishes  the  characters,  and  supplies  the  incidents  which  are  want- 
ing to  make  them  complete. 

274.  Imagination,  however,  does  not  only  increase  our 
sensibility  to  scenes  of  distress  ;  it  gives  us  a  double  share  of 
enjoyment  in  the  prosperity  of  others,  and  fits  us  to  partici- 
pate, with  a  more  lively  interest,  in  every  fortunate  incident 
that  falls  to  the  lot  either  of  individuals  or  of  communities-. 


CHAP.  ix.  Of  Imagination.  i£5 

Obs,  1.  Even  from  the  productions  of  the  earth,  and  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  year,  Imagination  carries  forward  our  thoughts  to  the 
enjoyments  they  bring  to  the  sensitive  creation,  and  by  interesting 
our  benevolent  affections  in  the  scenes  we  behold,  lends  a  new 
charm  to  the  beauties  of  nature.  In  confirmation  of  this  observa- 
tion, I  recommend  to  the  student's  perusal,  Thomson's  "  Seasons," 
or  Bloomfield's  "  Farmer's  Boy,". 

2.  As  to  those  callous  beings  who  feel  wholly  for  themselves,  and 
have  no  emotions  for  the  fate  of  others ;  who,  in-  fact,  evince  no 
feeling  for  the  distresses  to  which  humanity  is  so  much  a  prey ; 
their  coldness  and  selfishness  may  be  traced  to  a  want  of  attention, 
and  a  want  of  Imagination  ;  and' I  shall  not,  therefore,  insult  the 
mind  of  generous  youth,  by  pourtraying  principles  that  bar  the 
heart  against  the  eloquent  and  pathetic  language  of  beggary, 
famine,  disease,  and  all  the  distress  which  exists  in  the  world. 

V.  On  the  Culture  of  the  Imagination. 

275.  Tt  may  be  asserted,  without  fear  of  contradiction, 
that,  with  regard  to  the  faculty  of  Imagination,  as  with 
regard  to  all  the  other  endowments  of  the  mind,  certain 
degrees  of  improvement  are  within  the  reach  of  every  indi- 
vidual who  earnestly  endeavours  to  attain  it. 

Illus.  In  truth,  says  Professor  Jardine,  the  simple  consideration 
that  this  faculty,  like  most  others,  is  in  a  constant  state  of  action, 
necessarily  implies  the  notion  of  culture  and  improvement.  In 
very  young  persons,  too,  its  efforts  are  weak,  and  its  combinations 
unsteady;  but,  as  the  range  of  knowledge  enlarges,  and  the  num- 
ber of  ideas  is  increased,  its  growing  power  makes  itself  manifest  in 
the  vivid  reproductions  which  it  places  before  the  mind,  and  in  the 
boldness  of  its  varied  creations. 

Example  1.  When  Philip  planned  the  conquest  of  Greece,  or 
when  Scipio  and.  Polybius  anticipated  the  destruction  of  Carthage, 
their  Imaginations  must  have  been  strong  and  steady  enough  to 
present,  before  the  eye  of  their  minds,  extensive  combinations  of 
distant  events  respecting  the  relative  state  and  condition  of  these 
nations,  and  the  various  probabilities  which  fell  within  their  view. 
Their  Imaginations  could  not  have  performed  for  them  this  office 
when  they  first  began  to  study  politics. 


process  of  time,  his  Imagination  would,  with  the  utmost  ease  and 
steadiness,  place  before  him  the  whole  solar  system,  in  the  order  of 
the  relative  distances,  magnitudes,  and  dependencies  of  the  several 
planets  of  which  it  is  composed. 

3.  When  the  celebrated  Edmund  Burke,  too,  at  the  very  time 
when  the  greatest  part  of  the  learned  men  of  Europe  were  rejoic- 
ing at  the  pleasing  prospect  opened  by  the  French  Revolution,  fore- 
saw  the  confusion,  anarchy,  and  bloodshed,  that  followed  so  hard 
upon  it,  his  Imagination  must  have  held  up  to  him  a  long  train  of 


.12(5  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11. 

events,  linked  tog-ether  as  cause  and  effect,  and  must  have  manifest- 
ed a  degree  of  energy  to  which,  in  the  early  periods  of  his  life,  it 
would  have  been  totally  inadequate. 

Corol.  These  examples  make  it  very  obvious  that  there  is  a  gra- 
dual progress  in  the  developement  of  this  faculty,  and,  consequent- 
ly, that  there  is  a  fair  field  spread  out  for  the  application  of  culture. 

276.  It  is  well  known,  from  experience,  that  the  activity 
and  consequent  improvement  of  the  Imagination,  depend 
not  a  little  upon  the  character  of  the  objects  with  which  it  is 
first  occupied. 

Illus.  The  great,  the  sublime,  the  beautiful,  the  new,  and  the 
uncommon,  in  external  nature,  are  not  only  striking  and  agreea- 
ble in  themselves,  but  by  association,  these  qualities  powerfully 
awaken  the  sensibilities  of  the  heart,  and  kindle  the  fires  of  youth- 
ful Imagination.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  certain  objects  so 
mean,  so  tame,  and  pursuits  so  ignoble,  amidst  which  the  early 
years  of  life  are  sometimes  doomed  to  be  spent,  as  neither  to  have 
produced  one  impression,  nor  excited  one  train  of  thought,  which 
could  ever  afterwards  enter  into  the  conceptions,  or  aid  the  fancy, 
of  the  painter  or  the  poet.  (JARDIXE.) 

Corol.  If,  therefore,  the  student  shall  permit  objects  which  are 
mean,  low,  or  sensual,  to  usurp  possession  of  his  mind;  if  the  books 
which  he  reads,  and  the  studies  that  he  pursues,  are  contaminated 
\vith  gross  ideas,  he  has  no  right  to  expect  that  this  omnipotent 
faculty  shall  ever  draw  from  the  polluted  treasures  of  his  memory, 
Tiny  tiling  noble,  useful,  or  praiseworthy ;  or  that  his  name  shall 
ever  be  enrolled  among  those  who  have  delighted,  instructed,  and 
honoured  their  native  land  and  the  world  at  large : — "  Oat  of  the 
fulness  of  the  heart,  the  mouth  speaketh." 

277.  But  the   Imagination  is   not  only  improvable,  in 
point  of  vigour  and  activity,  it  likewise  admits  of  culture 
in  respect  of  regularity  and  chasteness.     (Corol.  .flrt.  270.) 

Illus.  No  faculty  is  naturally  more  irregular  and  rambling  in  its 
motions,  or  demands  more  loudly  the  controul  of  a  governing  power. 
"Whilst  we  are  awake,  indeed,  and  in  a  sound  state  of  mind,  it 
is  kept  within  some  bounds  by  the  presence  of  external  objects,  and 
by  the  impression  derived  from  them  through  the  medium  of  the 
senses  ;  but  in  a  dream,  those  centinels  being  off  their  guard,  we 
have  sufficient  experience  of  its  eccentric  flights,  and  its  fantastic 
combinations.  The  first  efforts,  too,  of  men  of  genius,  may  be 
compared  to  the  curvetings  of  an  unbridled  colt,  which  scampers 
over  the  fields,  spurning  all  constraint,  till  its  strength  is  exhausted; 
nor  is  it  until  experience,  with  its  usual  accompaniments  of  improv- 
ed knowledge,  and  enlightened  taste,  has  tamed  the  impetuosity 
of  youthful  feeling,  that  this  faculty  becomes  subjected  to  those 
regular  movements  of  reason,  sensibility,  and  passion,  to  which  we 
owe  the  many  fine  specimens  of  poetry,  eloquence,  statuary,  and 
painting,  that  adorn  the  brighter  eras  of  civilized  society.  (JAHDIXE.) 
Corol .  1.  From  the  foregoing  illustrations  in  this  section t  it  natu- 


.  Of  Judgment.  1£7 

rally  occurs,  as  a  rational  enquiry,  whether  there  might  not  be  con- 
structed such  a  scheme  of  discipline  and  instruction,  us  would 
invigorate  and  call  forth,  in  regular  and  systematic  exercises,  the 
latent  powers  of  Imagination  ?  The  enlightened  Tutor  of  a  well 
adjusted  plan  of  education,  will  find  many  of  the  first  steps  within 
his  reach,  and  the  virtuous  student  will  find,  in  the  end,  that  the 
company  he  has  kept,  the  conversation  he  has  maintained,  and  the 
books  he  has  used,  are  of  some  avail  in  influencing  his  general 
taste,  and  in  determining  the  bias  of  fancy,  and  improving  or  dete- 
riorating* the  powers  of  Imagination. 

2.  From  certain  varieties,  which  no  doubt  subsist  in  the  original 
constitution  of  the  intellectual  powers,  from  early  habits  and  parti- 
cular associations,  the  Imagination  of  some  youths  may  be  more 
early  directed  to  sensible  or  to  visible  imagery  than  to  other  trains 
of  thought ;  but,  in  all  cases,  the  Imagination,  the  active  instrument 
of  reproduction,  is  within  the  reach  of  culture,  when  applied  pro- 
perly, and  at  a  proper  season.  Great  poets,  and  illustrious  paint- 
ers, are,  it  is  true,  distinguished  by  original  differences  of  activity 
and  strength  of  Imagination ;  nor  is  it  less  true,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  no  degree  of  labour  or  of  industry  can  raise  a  weak  and  feeble 
Imagination  to  the  highest  degree  of  poetical  or  of  limning  genius  ; 
still,  it  may  be  maintained,  (See  Carol.  Art.  270.  Section  in.  of  this 
chapter,)  that  by  reasonable  culture,  this  power  can  be  made  capa- 
ble of  greater  efforts,  and  invested  with  higher  qualities,  than  could 
arise  from  the  mere  natural  and  unimproved  endowments. 

This  is  the  opinion  of  Professor  Jardine,  and  it  is  supported  by 
the  authority  of  Dugald  Stewart.  See  the  "  Outlines  of  a  Philoso- 
phical Education,"  by  the  Former,  and  the  "  Elements  of  the  Phi- 
losophy of  the  Human  Mind,"  ch.  vii.  vol.  1.  by  the  Latter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  JUDGMENT. 

I.  Analysis  of  this  Faculty  in  general. 

278.  JUDGMENT  has  been  defined  the  faculty  by  which 
the  mind  comes  to  determinations  concerning  the  truth  or 
falsehood  of  any  thing  that  is  affirmed  or  denied.  (Art.  97. 
A7o.  X.  p.  44.) 

Obs.  As  it  is  impossible,  by  a  definition,  to  give  a  notion  of  colour 
to  a  man  who  never  saw  colours  ;  so  it  is  impossible,  by  any  defini- 
tion, to  give  a  distinct  notion  ot Judgment,  to  a  person  who  has  not 
often  judged,  and  who  is  not  capabfe  of  reflecting  attentively  upon 
this  act  of  the  mind.  The  best  use  of  a  definition,  ys  to  prompt  the 
reader  to  that  reflection  ;  and  without  it  the  best  definition  will  be 
apt  to  mislead  him.  The  definition  we  have  given  is  confirmed  by 
the  following  illustrations. 


128  SI  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  tt. 

Illus.  1.  True  it  is,  that  by  affirmation  or  denial,  we  express  our 
judgements  ;  but  there  may  be  judgments  which  are  not  expressed. 
Judgment  is  a  solitary  act  of  the  mind,  and  the  expression  of  it,  by 
affirmation  or  denial,  is  not  at  all  essential  to  it.  It  may  be  tacit, 
and  not  expressed.  Nay,  it  is  well  known,  that  men  may  judge 
contrary  to  what  they  affirm  or  deny ;  the  definition  must,  therefore, 
be  understood  of  mental  affirmation  or  denial,  which  indeed  is  only 
another  name  for  Judgment.  (See  Illus.  Art.  28.) 

2.  Ttie  'affirming-  or  denying  of  a  tiling,  is  very  often  the  expres- 
sion of  testimony,  which  isva  direct  act  of  the  mind,  and  ought  to  be 
distinguished  from  Judgment. 

Example.  A  judge  asks  a  witness  what  he  knows  of  such  a 
^natter,  to  which  he  was  an  eye  or  an  ear  witness.  The  witness 
answers,  by  affirming  or  denying  something.  But  his  answer  does 
not  express  his  Judgment ;  it  is  his  testimony.  Again,  you  ask  a 
man  his  opinion  in  a  matter  of  science,  or  of  criticism.  His  answer 
is  not  testimony;  it  is  the  expression  of  his  judgment.  Thus,  testi- 
mony is  distinguished  from  judgment.  (See  Illits.  2.  Art.  116.) 

Illus.  3.  Testimony  is  a  social  act,  and  it  is  essential  to  this  act 
that  it  be  expressed  by  words  or  signs.  A  tacit  testimony  is  a  con- 
tradiction ;  but  there  is  no  contradiction  in  a  tacit  Judgment :  it  is 
complete,  without  being  expressed.  In  testimony  a  man  pledges 
his  veracity  for  what  he  affirms  ;  so  that  a  false  testimony  is  a  lie ; 
but  a  -wrong  judgment  is  not  a  lie ;  it  is  only  an  error.  In  the 
structure  of  all  languages,  says  Dr.  Reid,  testimony  and  judgment 
are  expressed  by  the  same  form  of  speech.  A  proposition,  affirma- 
tive or  negative,  with  a  verb  in  what  is  called  the  indicative  mood, 
expresses  both.  (See  Jlrt.  25.) 

4.  Although  men  must  have  judged  in  many  cases  before  tribu- 
nals of  justice  were  erected,  yet  it  is  very  probable  that  there  were 
tribunals  before  men  began  to  speculate  about  Judgment,  and  that 
the  word  may  be  borrowed  from  the  practice  of  tribunals.  As  a 
judge,  after  taking  the  proper  evidence  passes  sentence  in  a  cause, 
and  that  SENTENCE  is  called  his  judgment ,•  so  the  mind,  with  regard 
to  whatever  is  true  or  false,  passes  sentence,  or  determines  according* 
to  the  evidence  that  is  before  it.  Some  kinds  of  evidence  leave  no 
room  for  doubt,  and  sentence  is  passed  immediately,  without  seek- 
ing or  hearing  any  contrary  evidence,  because  the  thing  is  certain 
and  notorious.  In  other  cases,  there  is  room  for  weighing  evidence, 
on  both  sides,  before  sentence  is  passed. 

Carol.  The  analogy  between  a  tribunal  of  justice  and  this  inward 
tribunal  of  the  mind,  is  too  obvious  to  escape  the  notice  of  any  man 
who  ever  appeared  before  a  judge  ;  and  we  may  thence  infer,  that 
the  word  Judgment,  as  well  as  many  other  tvords  which  we  use  in 
speaking  of  this  operation  of  the  mind,  are  grounded  on  this  analo- 
gy. (See  Chapter  IV.  Book  I.) 

279.  In  Article  140,  we  pointed  out  the  distinction  be- 
tween conception,  as  used  in  Chapter  V.  of  this  book,  and 
tlmple  apprehension,  which,  in  the  language  of  the  school- 
men, includes  our  apprehension  of  general  propositions* 
Judgment  is  an  act  of  the  mind  specifically  different  from 


£HAP.  x.  Of  Judgment.  129 

simple  apprehension,  or  the  bare  conception  of  a  thing. 
(See  Him.  Art.  25.) 

Illus.  Although  there  can  be  no  Judgment  without  a  conception 
of  the  tliing-s  about  which  we  judge  ;  yet  conception  may  be  with- 
out any  Judgment.  Judgment  can  be  expressed  by  a  proposition 
only,  and  a  proposition  is  a  complete  sentence  ;  but  simple  appre- 
hension may  be  expressed  by  a  word  or  words,  which  make  no 
complete  sentence.  When  simple  apprehension  is  employed 
about  a  proposition,  every  man  knows  that  it  is  one  thing"  to  appre- 
hend a  proposition,  that  is,  to  conceive  what  it  means ;  but  it  is 
quite  another  thing-  to  judge  it  to  be  true  or  false.  (Illus.  Art.  28.) 

280.  Every  Judgment  must  be  either  true  or  false,  but 
simple  apprehension  can  neither  be  true  nor  false.     (See 
Corel  Art.  52.) 

Illus.  One  Judgment  may  be  contradictory  to  another ;  and  it  is 
impossible  for  a  man  to  have,  at  the  same  time,  two  Judgments, 
which  he  perceives  to  be  contradictory.  But  contradictory  propo- 
sitions may  be  conceived  at  the  same  time  without  any  difficulty. 
That  the  Sun  is  greater  than  the  Earth,  and  that  the  Sun  is  not 
greater  than  the  Earth,  are  contradictory  propositions.  He  that 
apprehends  the  meaning  of  the  one  apprehends  the  meaning*  of  both. 
But  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  judge  both  to  be  true  at  the  same 
time.  He  knows  that  if  one  is  true,  the  other  is  false. 

Carol.  For  these  reasons,  we  hold  it  to  be  certain,  that  Judg- 
ment and  simple  apprehension  are  acts  of  the  mind  specifically 
-different.  (See  Art.  279.) 

281.  There  are  notions,  or  ideas,  that  ought  to  be  refer- 
red to  the  faculty  of  Judgment  as  their  source  ;   because,  if 
we  had   not  this  faculty,   they  could  not  enter  into  our 
minds;  and,  to  all  those  that  have  this  faculty,  and  are 
capable  of  reflecting  upon  its  operations,  they  are  obvious 
and  familiar. 


Ilhts.  Among  these  we  may  reckon  the  notion  of  Judgment 
itself ;  the  notions  of  a  proposition,  of  its  subject,  of  its  predicate, 
and  of  its  copula;— of  affirmation  and  negation,  of  true  and  fals-% 
1  knowledge,  belief,  disbelief,  opinion,  ussent,  evidence.  From 
no  source  could  we  acquire  these  notions,  but  from  reflecting  upon 
our  judgments.  Relations  of  things  make  one  great  class  of  our  no- 
tions, or  ideas ;  and  we  cannot  have  the  idea  of  any  relation  wi*h- 
out  some  exercise  of  Judgment. 

282.  In  persons  come  to  years  of  understanding  Jud«-- 
ment  necessarily  accompanies  all  sensation,  perception  bv 
the  senses,  consciousness,  and  memory. 

tion  of  this  position. 

Illus  1.  In  persons  having  the  exercise  of  Judgment    if  is  cvi 
dent,  that  the  man  who  feels  pain,  judges  and  beBevTs  that  hels 
12  * 


130  v#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ii. 

really  pained.  (See  Him.  Jlrt.  39.)  The  man  who  -perceives  an 
object  believes  that  it  exists,  and  that  it  is  what  he  distinctly  per- 
ceives it  to  be  ;  nor  is  it  in  his  power  to  avoid  such  a  Judgment. 
And  the  same  may  be  affirmed  of  Memory,  and  of  Consciousness. 

2.  Whether  Judgment  ought  to  be  called  a  necessary  concomi- 
tant of  these  operations,  or  rather  a  part  or  ingredient  of  them, 
ejiters  not  into  the  illustration  before  us  ;  but  it  is  certain,  that  all 
of  tliem  are  accompanied  with  a  determination  and  a  consequent 
belief  that  something-  is  true  or  false.  If  this  determination  be  not 
Judgment,  it  is  an  operation  that  has  received  no  name  by  phi- 
losophers ;  for  it  is  not  simple  apprehension,  neither  is  it  reason- 
ing ;  it  is  a  mental  affirmation  or  negation  ,•  it  may  be  expressed 
by  a -proposition  affirmative  or  negative,  and  it  is  accompanied 
with  the  firmest  belief.  These  are  the  characteristics  of  Judgment, 

283.  The  judgments  -which  we  form  are  either  of  things 
necessary,  or  of  things  contingent. 

Illus.  1.  That  three  times  three  are  nine;  that  the  whole  is  grea- 
ter than  its  part ; — are  judgments  about  things  necessary.  Our 
assent  to  such  necessary  propositions  is  not  grounded  upon  any 
operation  of  sense,  of  memory,  or  of  consciousness,  nor  does  it  re- 
quire their- concurrence  ;  it  is  unaccompanied  by  any  other  opera- 
tion but  that  of  conception,  which  must  accompany  all  Judgment. 
(See  Art.  147.  Illus.  1.) 

2.  Our  Judgment  of  things  contingent  must  always  rest  upon 
some  other  operation  of  the  mind,  such  as  sense,  or  memory,  or 
consciousness,  or  credit  in  testimony,  which  is  itself  grounded 
upon  sense.  That  I  now  write  upon  a  desk  covered  with  green 
baize,  is  a  contingent  event,  which  I  judge  to  be  most  undoubtedly 
true.  My  Judgment  is  grounded  upon  my  perception,  (Jlrt.  23.) 
and  is  a  necessary  concomitant,  or  ingredient,  of  my  perception. 
That  I  yesterday  dined  with  such  a  person,  I  judge  to  be  true,  be- 
cause I  remember  it,  and  my  Judgment  necessarily  goes  along  with 
this  remembrance,  or  makes  a  part  of  it.  (See  Jlrt.  49.) 

£84.  There  are  many  forms  of  speech  in  common  lan- 
guage which  show  that  the  senses,  memory,  and  conscious- 
/less,  are  considered  as  judging  faculties. 

Ilhts.  We  say  that  a  man  judges  of  colours  by  his  eye,  of  sounds 
by  his  ear.  We  speak  of  the  evidence  of  sense,  (Carol.  Art.  121.) 
the  evidence  of  memory,  (Art.  243.  Jttus.)  and  the  evidence  of 
consciousness,  (  Carol.  Art.  IQl.J  Evidence  is  the  basis  of  Judg- 
ment ;  and  when  we  see  evidence  it  is  impossible  not  to  judge. 

Corol.  1.  Hence,  when  we  speak  of  seeing  or  remembering  any 
thing,  we  hardly  ever  add  that  -we  judge  it  to  be  true  ;  because  such 
an  addition  would  be  a  superfluity  of  speech.  And,  for  the  same 
reason,  in  speaking  of  what  is  self-evident,  or  strictly  demonstrated, 
we  do  not  say  that  we  judge  it  to  be  true.  Hence  the  gramma- 
rians say,  that  to  see  -with  the  eyes,  is  a  tautology  ;  and  they  are  per- 
fectly correct. 

2.  There  is,  therefore,  good  reason  why,  in  speaking  or  -writing, 
Judgment  should  not.  be  expressly  mentioned,  when  all  men  know 


CHAP.X.  Of  Judgment.  131 

it  to  be  necessarily  implied  ;  that  is  to  say,  when  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  The  bare  mention  of  the  e-vidence  is  all  that  men  require. 
But  when  the  evidence  mentioned  leaved  room  for  doubt,  then,  with- 
out any  superfluity,  or  tautology,  we  say  we  judge  the  thing  to  be 
£O,  because  this  is  not  implied  in  what  was  said  before. 

285.  The  judgments  grounded  upon  the   evidence  of 
sense,  of  memory,  and  ot  consciousness,  are  called  judg- 
ments of  nature,  because   she  has   subjected   us  to  them 
whether  we  will  or  not, — because  she  has  thus  put  all  men 
upon  a  level,  (Art.  121.  Corol.}  and  thus  deprived  the  phi- 
losopher of  any  prerogative  above  the  illiterate,   or  even 
above  the  savage.     Belief  in  our  senses,  and  in  our  memo- 
ry, is  not  learned  by  culture.     It  is  necessary  to  all  men 
for  their  being  and  preservation,  and  therefore  is  uncondi- 
tionally given  to  all  men  by  the  Author  of  Nature. 

II.    Of  the  Exercise  of  Judgment  in  the  Formation  of 
abstract  and  general  Conceptions. 

286.  That  some  exercise  of  Judgment  is  necessary  in  the 
formation  of  all  abstract  and  general  conceptions,  whether 
more  simple  or  more  complex  in  dividing,  in  defining,  and, 
in  general,  in  forming  all  clear  and  distinct  conceptions  of 
things,  which  are  the  only  fit  materials  of  all  reasoning,  we 
shall  now  proceed  to  illustrate. 

Obs.  These  operations  are  allied  to  each  other,  and  have,'  there- 
fore, been  brought  under  one  article.  But  they  are  more  allied  to 
our  rational  nature  than  those  considered  in  the  last  section,  and 
are  therefore  to  be  considered  by  themselves.  And,  that  the  illus- 
trations we  are  to  offer  may  not  be  mistaken  for  what  they  really 
are  not,  we  take  leave  to  premise,  that  it  is  not  meant  to  be 
affirmed  that  abstract  notions,  or  other  accurate  notions  of  things, 
after  they  have  been  formed,  cannot  be  barely  conceived  without  any 
exercise  of  Judgment  about  them.  All  that  is  meant  by  the  posi- 
tion laid  down  in  the  article  now  in  hand,  is,  that,  in  the  formation, 
at  first,  of  those  "  abstract  and  general  conceptions"  of  the  mind, 
there  must  be  some  exercise  of  judgment. 

Illus.  1.  It  is  impossible  to  distinguish  the  different  atributes  be- 
longing to  the  same  subject,  without  judging  that  they  are  really 
different  and  distinguishable,  and  that  they  'have  that  relation  to 
the  subject  which  logicians  express  by  saying,  that  they  may  be 
the  predicated  of  it.  We  cannot  generalize,  without  judging  that 
the  same  attribute  does,  or  may,  belong  to  many  individuals,  (Art. 
188.)  Our  simplest  general  notions  are  formed  by  distinguishing 
and  generalizing ;  hence  we  may  infer,  that  Judgment  is  exercised 
in  forming  the  simplest  general  notions. 

2.  In  those  that  are  more  complex,  and  which  have  been  shewn 
to  be  formed  by  combining  the  more  simple,  there  js  anoth- 


132  *#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  y. 

er  act  of  the  Judgment  required ;  for  such  combinations  are  not 
made  at  random,  but  for  an  end,  and  Judgment  is  employed  in  fit- 
ting them  to  that  end.  We  form  complex  general  notions  for  the 
conveniency  of  arranging  our  thoughts  in  discourse  and  reasoning; 
and,  therefore,  of  an  infinite  number  of  combinations  that  might  be 
formed,  we  choose  only  those  that  are  useful  and  necessary. 

287.  That  Judgment  must  be  employed  in  dividing  as 
well  as  in  distinguishing,  appears  evident.     It  is  one  thing 
to  divide  a  subject  properly,  another  to  cut  it  to  pieces. 
floe  non  est  divider e,  sed  f ranger e  rem>  said  Cicero,  when, 
lie  censured  the  improper  division  of  Epicurus. 

Hlus.  Reason,  as  we  shall  see  by  and  bye,  has  discovered  rules 
of  division  which  have  been  known  to  logicians  for  more  than 
2000  years.  There  are  rules  likewise  of  definition,  of  no  less  anti- 
quity and  authority.  A  man  may,  no  doubt,  divide  or  define  pro- 
perly without  attending  to  these  rules,  or  even  without  knowing 
them  ;  but  this  can  only  be  when  he  has  Judgment  to  perceive 
that  to  be  right  in  a  particular  case,  which  the  rule  determines  to  be 
right  in  all  cases. 

Corol.  What  has  now  been  advanced,  leads  to  the  inference  that, 
without  some  degree  of  Judgment,  we  can  form  no  accurate  and 
distinct  notions  of  things  ;  so  that  one  province  of  Judgment  is,  to 
aid  us  in  forming  clear  and  distinct  conceptions  of  things,  which 
are  the  only  fit  materials  for  reasoning. 

288.  The  necessity  of  some  degree  of  Judgment  to  have 
clear  and  distinct  conceptions  of  things,  may  thus  be  illus- 
trated, even  to  the  philosophers,  who  have  always  consider- 
ed the  formation  of  ideas  of  every  kind  as  belonging  to 
simple  apprehension,  and  that  the  sole  province  of  Judgment 
is  to  put  them  together  in  affirmative  or  negative  propo- 
sitions. 

Hhis.  An  artist,  suppose  a  carpenter,  cannot  work  in  his  art  with- 
©ut  tools,  and  these  tools  must  be  made  by  art.  The  exercise  of 
the  art,  therefore,  is  necessary  to  make  the  tools,  and  the  tools  are 
necessary  to  the  exercise  of  the  art.  And  this  is  illustrative  of  the 
necessity  of  some  degree  of  Judgment,  in  order  to  form  clear  and 
distinct  conceptions  of  things.  These  are  the  tools  which  we  must 
use  in  judging  and  reasoning,  and  without  them  our  work  must  be 
very  bungling  indeed ;  yet  these  tools  cannot  be  made  without  some 
exercise  of  Judgment. 

289.  The  necessity  of  some  degree  of  Judgment  in  for- 
ming accurate  and  distinct  notions  of  things,  will  further 
appear,   if  we  consider  attentively  what  notions   we  can 
form,  without  any  aid  of  Judgment,  of  the  objects  of  sense, 
of  the  operations  of  our  own  minds,  or  of  the  relations  of 
things, 


8  HAP.  x.  Of  Judgment.  133 

(i.)  To  begin  with  the  OBJECTS  OF  SENSE. 
£90.  It  is  acknowledged,  on  all  hands,  that  the  first 
notions  we  have  of  sensible  objects  are  acquired  by  the 
external  senses  only,  and  probably  before  Judgment  is 
brought  forth ;  but  these  first  notions  are  neither  simple, 
nor  are  they  accurate  and  distinct.  They  are  gross  and 
indistinct,  and,  like  a  chaos,  an  indigested  heap  of  rude 
materials.  Before  we  can  have  any  distinct  notion  of  this 
mass,  it  must  be  analysed ;  the  heterogeneous  parts  must 
be  separated  in  our  conception,  and  the  simple  elements, 
which  before  lay  hid  in  the  common  mass,  must  first  be 
distinguished,  and  then  put  together  into  one  whole. 

Illus.  Iii  this  way  it  is  that  we  form  distinct  notions  even  of  the 
objects  of  sense  ;  but  this  analysis  and  composition  become  so  easy 
by  habit,  and  can  be  thence  performed  so  readily,  that  we  are  apt 
to  overlook  it,  and  to  impute  the  distinct  notion  we  have  formed  of 
the  object,  to  the  senses  alone  ;  and  this  we  are  the  more  prone  to 
do,  because,  when  once  we  have  distinguished  the  sensible  quali- 
ties of  the  object  from  one  another,  the  sense  gives  testimony  to  each 
of  them. 

Example.  Suppose  a  cube  of  brass  to  be  presented  at  the  same 
time  to  a  child  of  a  year  old  and  to  a  man.  The  regularity  of  the 
figure  will  attract  the  attention  of  both.  Both  have  the  sensations 
of  sight  and  of  touch  in  equal  perfection ;  and,  therefore,  if  any 
thing  be  discovered  in  this  object  by  the  man,  which  cannot  be 
discovered  by  the  child,  it  must  be  owing,  not  to  the  senses,  but  to 
some  other  faculty,  which  the  child  has  not  yet  attained. 

Ilhts.  1.  First,  then,  the  man  can  easily  distinguish  the  body  from 
the  surface  that  terminates  it ;  this  the  child  cannot  do.  Secondly, 
the  man  can  perceive,  that  this  surface  is  made  up  of  six  planes  of 
the  same  figure  and  magnitude  :  the  child  cannot  discover  this. 
Thirdly,  the  man  perceives  that  each  of  these  planes  has  four  equal 
sides,  and  four  angles  :  and  that  the  opposite  sides  of  each  plane, 
and  the  opposite  planes  are  parallel.  (See  Illus.  1.  Art.  183.) 

2.  It  will  surely  be  allowed,  that  a  man  of  ordinary  Judgment 
may  observe  all  this  in  a  cube  which  he  makes  an  object  of  con- 
temj^ation,  and  takes  time  to  consider ;  that  he  may  give  the  name 

square  to  a  plane  terminated  by  four  equal  sides  and  four  equal 
angles  ;  and  the  name  of  a  cube,  to  a  solid  terminated  by  six  equal 
squares  ;  all  this  then  is  nothing  else  but  analysing  the  figure  of  the 
object  presented  to  his  senses  into  its  simplest  elements^  and  again 
compounding  it  of  those  elements. 

3.  By  this  analysis  and   composition  two  effects  are   produced » 
First,  from  the  one  complex  object  which  his  senses  presented  to 
his  mind,  though  one  of  the  most  simple  the  senses  can  present, 
he  educes  many  simple  and  distinct  notions  of  right  lines,  angles, 
plane  surface*   solid,  equality,  parallelism;  notions  which  the  child 
has  not  yet  faculties  to  attain.     Secondly,   when  the  man  considers 
the  cube  as  compounded  of  these  elements,  put  together  in  a  cer 


134  *ft  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ji> 

tain  order,  he  has  then,  and  not  before,  a  distinct  and  scientific 
notion  of  a  cube.  The  child  neither  conceives  those  elements, 
nor  in  what  order  they  must  be  put  tog-ether,  so  as  to  make  a 
cube  ;  and  therefore  of  a  cube  he  has  no  accurate  notion  which 
can  make  it  a  subject  of  reasoning. 

Carol.  Whence  we  may  conclude,  that  the  notions  which  we 
have  from  the  senses  alone,  even  of  the  simplest  object  of  sense, 
are  indistinct,  and  incapable  of  being-  either  described  or  reasoned 
upon,  until  the  object  is  analysed  into  its  simple  elements,  and 
considered  as  compounded  of  those  elements.  (See  Illus.  and 
Carol.  Art.  188.) 

Illus.  4.  And  if  we  should  apply  this  reasoning  to  more  complex 
objects  of  sense,  the  conclusion  is  still  more  evident. 

Example.  A  dog  may  be  taught  to  turn  a  jack,  but  he  can  ne- 
ver be  taught  to  have  a  distinct  notion  of  a  jack.  He  sees  every 
part  of  it  as  well  as  a  man ;  but  the  relation  of  the  parts  to  one 
another,  and  to  the  whole,  he  has  not  Judgment  to  comprehend. 
(See  Illus.  6.  Art.  192.) 

Illus.  5.  A  distinct  notion  of  an  object,  even  of  sense,  is  never 
got  in  an  instant ;  but  the  sense  performs  its  office  in  an  instant. 
Time  is  not  required  to  see  it  better,  but  to  analyse  it,  to  distinguish 
the  different  parts,  and  their  relation  to  one  another,  and  to  the 
whole. 

Corol.  Hence  it  is,  that  when  any  vehement  passion  or  emotion 
hinders  the  cool  application  of  Judgment,  we  get  no  distinct  notion, 
of  an  object,  even  though  the  sense  be  long  directed  to  it. 

Example.  A  man  who  is  put  into  a  panic,  by  thinking  he  sees  a 
ghost,  may  stare  very  long,  without  having  any  distinct  notion  of 
what  he  fancies  he  beholds ;  it  is  his  understanding,  and  not  hie 
sense,  that  is  disturbed  by  his  horror.  If  he  can  lay  that  aside, 
Judgment  immediately  enters  upon  its  office,  and  examines  the 
length  and  breadth,  the  colour  and  figure,  and  distance  of  the 
object.  Of  these,  while  his  panic  lasted,  he  had  no  distinct  notion, 
though  his  eyes  were  open  all  the  time. 

Illus.  6.  When  the  visual  organ  is  open,  but  the  Judgment  dis- 
turbed by  a  panic,  or  any  violent  emotion  that  engrosses  the  mind, 
we  see  things  confusedly,  and  probably  much  in  the  same  manner 
that  brutes  and  perfect  ideots  do,  and  infants  also  before  the  use 
of  judgment. 

Corol.  There  are,  therefore,  notions  of  the  objects  of  sense,  ^hich 
are  gross  and  indistinct,  and  there  are  others  which  are  di^|inct 
and  scientific.  The  former  ,  ^ay  be  acquired  from  the  senses  alone ; 
but  the  latter  cannot  be  obtained  without  some  degree  of  Judg- 
ment. 

291.  (n.)  Having  said  so  much  on  the  notions  which  we 
acquire  of  the  objects  of  sense  from  the  senses  alone ;  let  us 
next  consider  what  notions  we  can  have  of  the  operations  of 
our  minds,  from  consciousness  alone. 

lllus.  Consciousness  is  an  internal  sense,  (~JLrt.  24.J  that  gives 
the  like  immediate  knowledge  of -things  in  the  mind,  that  is,  of  our 
ewn  thoughts  and  feelings,  C Illus.  Art.  100. }  as  the  senses  give 


©HAP.  x.  Of  Judgment.  135 

us  of  things  external,  (~Art.  103  .J  Tliere  is  this  difference,  how- 
ever, that  an  external  object  may  be  at  rest,  and  the  sense  may  be 
employed  about  it  for  some  time,  f  Illus.  Art.  115. J  But*  the 
objects  of  consciousness  are  never  at  rest ;  the  stream  of  thought 
flows  like  a  river,  without  stopping  for  one  moment ;  the  whole 
train  of  thought  passes  in  succession  under  the  eye  of  conscious- 
ness, which  is  always  employed  about  the  present.  But  is  it  con- 
sciousness that  analyses  complex  operations,  distinguishes  their 
different  ingredients,  and  combines  them  in  distinct  parcels,  under 
general  names  ? — No. — ("Art.  24.  and  Illus.  Art.  48.  J — This  is  not 
the  work  of  consciousness,  nor  can  it  be  performed  without  reflec- 
tion, (Art.  51.)  recollecting  and  judging  of  what  we  were  conscious, 
and  what  we  distinctly  remember.  This  reflection  does  not  appeal- 
in  children,  and,  of  all  the  powers  of  the  mind,  it  comes  latest  to 
maturity,  whereas  consciousness  is  coeval  with  the  earliest.  (Obs. 
Art,  102.  and  Illus.  Art.  129.)  But  this  subject  has  been  so  suffi- 
ciently handled  in  the  fifth  Chapter  of  Book  I.  that  further  proofs 
in  this  place  are  unnecessary. 

292.  (in.)  We  proposed,  in  the  third  place,  to  consider 
our  notions  of  the  relations  of  things :  and  here,  it  appears, 
that,  without  Judgment  we  cannot  have  any  notion  of  rela- 
tions. 

nius.  1.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  we  acquire  the  notion  of 
relations.  The  first  is,  by  comparing  the  related  objects,  of  whick 
we  have  before  had  the  conception.  By  this  comparison  we  per- 
ceive the  relation,  either  immediately,  or  by  a  process  of  reason- 
ing. 

Examples.  That  the  fifth  finger  of  my*  hand  is  shorter  than  the 
middle  finger,  I  perceive  immediately  ;  as  well  as  that  three  is  the 
half  of  six.  This  instantaneous  perception  is  immediate  and  intu- 
itive Judgment.  (Sqe  Art.  114.  and  118.)  The  angles  at  the  base 
of  an  isosceles  triangle  are  equal,  I  perceive  by  a  process  of  reason- 
ing, in  which  it  will  be  acknowledged  that  there  is  Judgment. 
(See  Illus.  Art.  119.) 

Illus.  2.  Another  way  in  which  we  g-et  the  notions  of  relations, 
is,  when,  b}^  attention  to  one  of  the  related  objects,  we  perceive, 
or  judge,  that  it  must,  from  its  nature,  have  a  certain  relation  to 
something  else,  which  before  perhaps  we  never  thought  of ;  and 
thus  our  attention  to  one  of  the  related  objects  produces  the  notion 
of  a  correlate,  and  of  a  certain  relation  between  them. 

Example.  Thus,  when  you  attend  to  colour,  figure,  weight,  you 
cannot  help  judging  these  to  be  qualities  which  cannot  exist  with- 
out a  subject  ( 'Illus.  Art.  18. _)  ;  that  is,  something  which  is  colour- 
ed, figured,  heavy  (See  Illus.  Art.  182.).  If  you  had  not  perceived 
such  things  to  be  qualities,  you  would  never  have  had  any  notion 
of  their  subject,  or  of  their  relation  to  it.  (See  the  Illustrations  to 
Article  195.) 

Illus.  3.  By  attending  to  the  operations  of  thinking,  memory, 
reasoning,  we  perceive,  or  judge,  that  there  must  be  something 
which  thinks,  remembers,  and  reasons;  and  this  something  we 
call  the  rnind.  ("Art,  5.J  When  we  attend  to  any  change  that 


136  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  u* 

happens  in  nature,  Judgment  informs  us,  that  there  must  be  a 
cause  of  this  change,  which  had  power  to  produce  it ;  and  thus  we 
get  the  notions  of  cause  and  effect,  and  of  the  relation  between  them. 
("See  Jlrt.  13.  Illus.  1,  2,  3. J  When  we  attend  to  body,  we  per- 
ceive that  it  cannot  exist  without  space  ;  hence  we  get  the  notion 
of  space,  which  is  neither  an  object  of  sense  nor  of  consciousness, 
and  of  the  relation  which  bodies  have  to  a  certain  portion  of  un- 
limited space,  as  their  place.  (""See  Jlrt.  244.  Illus.  3  and  4. ) 

Corol.  All  our  notions,  therefore,  of  relations,  may  more  pro- 
perly be  ascribed  to  Judgment,  as  their  source,  and  origin,  than 
to  any  other  power  of  the  mind.  For,  we  must  first  perceive  rela- 
tions by  our  Judgment,  before  we  can  conceive  them  without 
judging1  of  them  ;  as  we  must  first  perceive  colours  by  sight,  be- 
fore we  can  conceive  them  without  seeing  them. 

Jllus.  4.  The  relations  of  unity  and  number  are  so  abstract,  that 
it  is  impossible  they  should  enter  into  the  mind  until  it  has  some 
.degree  of  Judgment.  We  see  with  what  difficulty,  and  how  slow- 
ly, children  learn  to  use,  with  understanding,  the  names  even  of 
small  numbers,  and  how  they  exult  in  this  acquisition  whenever 
they  have  attained  it.  Every  number  is  conceived  by  the  relation 
which  it  bears  to  unity,  or  to  known  combinations  of  units ;  and, 
upon  that  account,  as  well  as  on  account  of  its  abstract  nature,  all 
distinct  notions  of  it  require  some  degree  of  Judgment. 

Corel.  In  Chapter  IX.  of  this  Book,  it  was  clearly  shewn  how 
much  Judgment  enters,  as  an  ingredient,  into  all  determinations  of 
Taste  ;  and  in  Chapter  XII.  we  shall  have  occasion  to  shew,  that, 
in  all  moral  determinations,  and  in  many  of  our  passions  and  affec- 
tions, Judgment  is  a  necessary  concomitant;  so  that  this  faculty, 
after  we  come  to  those  years  in  which  reason  exercises  its  powers, 
mingles  with  most  of  the  operations  of  our  minds,  and,  in  analysing 
them,  cannot  be  overlooked  without  confusion  and  error. 


CHAPTER  XL 

OF  REASON. 

I.  Definition  and  Analysis  of  this  Faculty. 
293.  REASON  is  the  faculty  by  which  we  are  made  ac- 
quainted with  abstract  or  necessary  truth;   and  enabled  to 
discover  the  essential  relations  of  things. 

Obs.  The  power  of  Reasoning  is  very  nearly  allied  to  that  of 
judging;  and,  in  the  common  affairs  of  life,  the  same  term  is  appli- 
ed to  both.  We  include  both  under  the  name  of  Reason. 

llluH.  The  distinction  that  has  been  made  between  Judgment  and 
lii'.iisonmg,  is  not  perhaps  founded  so  much  in  any  natural  diversity 
of  the  nature  or  the  objects  of  the  faculties,  as  in  the  various  man- 
ner in  which  the  same  faculty  is  occasionally  applied.  This,  then, 


Of  fteasoti,  137 

seems  to  be  the  foundation  of  the  distinction.  When  the  truth 
which  is  asserted,  or  the  falsity  which  is  denied,  is  perfectly  obvi- 
ous, and  requires  little  or  no  examination,  the  faculty  is  then  com- 
monly called  Judgment  (Art.  278.  Illus.  l.J  ;  but,  when  the  truth 
which  is  asserted,  or  the  falsity  which  is  denied,  is  more  remote 
from  common  apprehension,  and  requires  a  careful  examination, 
the  faculty  has  then  been  dignified  with  the  name  of  Reasoning. 

Corol.  1.  Reasoning  being"  then  the  process  by  which  we  pass 
from  one  judgment  to  another,  which  is  a  consequence  of  the  pre- 
ceding"; our  judgments  are  distinguished  into  INTUITIVE,  which 
are  not  grounded  upon  any  preceding"  judgment,  and  DISCURSIVE, 
which  are  deduced  from  some  preceding  judgment  by  Reasoning. 

2.  In  all  Reasoning,  therefore,  there  must  be  a  proposition  infer- 
red, and  one  or  more  from  which  it  is  inferred.  And  this  power 
of  inferring,  or  drawing  a  conclusion,  is  only  another  name  for 
Reasoning ;  the  proposition  inferred,  being"  called  the  coticlusio7i, 
and  the  proposition,  or  propositions,  from  which  that  conclusion 
has  been  inferred,  being  called  the  premises. 

294.  Reasoning  may  consist  of  many  steps ;  the  first 
conclusion  being  a  premise  to  the  second,  the  second  to  a 
third,  and  so  on,  till  we  come  to  the  last  conclusion.     A 
process,  consisting  of  many  steps  of  this  kind,  is  so  easily 
distinguished  from  judgment,  that  it  is  never  called  by  that 
name.     But  when  there  is  only  a  single  step  to  the  conclu- 
sion, the  distinction  is  less  obvious,  and  the  process  is,  as 
we  have  shewn  above,  sometimes  called  Judgment,  some- 
times Reasoning. 

Obs.  The  Logicians  themselves,  as  well  as  the  illiterate,  some- 
times confound  Judgment  with  Reasoning,  though  their  definition 
of  both  be,  in  general  terms,  what  we  have  now  (Jlrt.  294.J  ex- 
pressed. So  various  indeed  are  the  modes  of  speech,  that  what  in 
one  mode  is  expressed  by  two  or  three  propositions,  may,  in  an- 
other, be  expressed  by  one. 

Example.  Thus  I  may  say,  God  is  good ;  therefore  all  good  men 
shall  be  happy.  This  species  of  Reasoning  the  Logicians  call  an 
Enthymeme,  as  it  consists  of  an  antecedent^proposition,  and  a  con- 
clusion drawn  from  it.  But  this  reasoning  may  be  expressed  by 
one  proposition,  thus  :  Because  God  is  good,  good  men  shall  be  hap- 
py. This  other  species  of  Reasoning  they  call  a  casual  proposition^ 
which  therefore  expresses  judgment ;  yet  the  Enthymeme,  which 
is  Reasoning,  expresses  no  more. 

295.  Reasoning,  as  well  as  Judgment,  must  be  true  or 
false,  (Jlrt.  45.)  ;  both  are  founded  upon  evidence,  which 
may  be  PROBABLE  or  DEMONSTRATIVE  (Art.  302.),  and  both 
are  accompanied  with  ASSENT  or  BELIEF.  (Illus.  Jlrt.  48.) 

Obs.  What  Reasoning  is,  can  be  understood  only  by  a  man  who 
has  reasoned,  and  who  is  capable  of  reflecting  upon  the  operations 

13 


138  .1  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  u. 

of  his  own  mind.     We  can  define  it  only  by  synonymous  words,  or 
phrases,  such  as  inferring,  drawing  a  conclusion,  and  such  like. 

Carol.  The  very  notion,  therefore,  of  Reasoning,  can  enter  into 
the  mind  by  no  other  channel  than  that  of  reflecting  upon  the  ope- 
ration of  Reasoning  in  our  own  minds,  and  the  notions  of  Premises 
and  Conclusions,  of  a  Syllogism,  and  all  its  constituent  parts,  of  an 
Enthymeme>  of  Sorites,  Demonstration,  Paralogism,  and  many  other 
technical  terms  of  logic,  have  the  same  origin. 

296.  The  faculty  of  Reasoning  is  undoubtedly  the  gift  of 
Nature;  and  in  vain  shall  we  attempt  to  supply  the  want  of 
this  gift  where  it  is  not,  by  art  or  education.     In  different 
individuals  this  faculty  will  be  found  in  different  degrees  ; 
yet  the  power  of  Reasoning  seems  to  be  acquired  by  habit, 
as  much  as  the  power  of  walking,  running,  or  swimming. 

Hhts.  We  are  not  able  to  recollect  its  first  exertions  in  ourselves, 
nor  clearly  to  discern  them  in  others ;  because  they  are  then  feeble, 
and  need  to  be  led  by  example,  arid  supported  by  authority.  But,  by 
degrees,  the  faculty  acquires  strength,  chiefly  by  means  of  imita- 
tion and  exercise. 

297.  The  exercise  of  Reasoning  on  various  subjects,  not 
only  strengthens  the  faculty,  but  furnishes  the  mind  with 
stores  of  materials. 

Ilhis .  1.  Every  train  of  Reasoning  which  is  familiar,  becomes  a 
beaten  track,  or  pathway  of  many  others.  It  removes  many  obsta- 
cles which  lie  in  our  way,  and  smooths  many  roads  which  we  may 
have  occasion  to  travel  in  future  disquisitions. 

2.  When  men  of  equal  parts  apply  their  reasoning  powers  to 
any  subject,  the  man  who  has  reasoned  much  on  the  same,  or  on 
similar  subjects,  has  a  like  advantage  over  him  who  has  not,  as  the 
mechanic,  who  has  all  the  tools  of  his  art,  has  over  him  who  has 
his  tools  to  make,  or  even  to  invent. 

298.  In  a  train  of  Reasoning,  the-  evidence  of  every  step, 
where  nothing  is  left  to  be  supplied  by  the  reader  or  the 
hearer,  must  be  immediately  discernible  to  every  man  of 
ripe  understanding,  who  has  a  distinct  comprehension  of  the 
premises  and  conclusions,  and  who  compares  them  together. 

Obs.  To  be  able  to  comprehend,  in  one  view,  a  combination  of 
steps  of  this  kind  is  more  difficult,  and  seems  to  require  a  superior 
natural  ability;  yet,  in  all  of  us,  it  may  be  much  improved  by  habit. 

299.  But  the  highest  talent  in  Reasoning  is  the  Invention 
of  proof s ;  by  which  truths  remote  from  the  premises  are 
brought  to  light. 

Obs.  In  all  works  of  understanding,  Invention  has  the  highest 
praise  (Art.  26.  lllus.J  ;  it  requires  an  extensive  view  of  what  re- 
lates to  the  subject,  and  a  quickness  in  discerning  those  affinities 
and  relations  which  may  be  subservient  to  the  purpose.  (See 
Art.  264.  Illvs.  1  and  2.  and  Corol.  1  and  2.) 


CHAP. -xi.  Of  Reason.  139 

300.  In  all  Invention  there  must  be  some  end  in  view ; 
and  Sagacity  in  finding  out  the  road  that  leads  to  that  end, 
is,  properly  speaking,  what  we  call  Invention. 

Obs.  In  this  chiefly,  and  in  clear  and  distinct  conceptions,  con- 
sist that  superiority  of  understanding  which  we  have  called  Genius, 
f  See  Art.  265.  IlhtsJ 

301.  In  every  chain  of  Reasoning,  the  evidence  of  the 
last  conclusion  can  be  no  greater  than  that  of  the  weakest 
link  of  the  chain,  whatever  may  be  the  strength  of  the  rest. 
(See  Art.  294.  Obs.  and  Example.) 

302.  Reasonings  are  either  PROBABLE  or  DEMONSTRATIVE. 
(See  Art.  295.  Illus.) 

1.  In  every  step  of  demonstrative  Reasoning,  the  inference 
is  necessary ,  and  we  perceive  it  to  be  impossible  that  the 
conclusion  should  not  follow  from  the  premises. 

ii.  In  probable  Reasoning,  the  connexion  between  the 
premises  and  the  conclusion  is  not  necessary,  nor  do  we 
perceive  it  to  be  impossible  that  the  first  should  be  true 
while  the  last  is  false. 

Corol.  Hence  demonstrative  Reasoning  has  no  degrees,  nor  can 
one  demonstration  be  stronger  than  another,  though,  in  relation  to 
our  faculties,  one  may  be  more  easily  comprehended  than  another. 
Every  demonstration  gives  equal  strength  to  the  conclusion,  and 
leaves  no  possibility  of  its  being  false. 

II.  ^Analysis  of  Demonstrative  Reasoning. 

303.  DEMONSTRATIVE  Reasoning  can  be  applied  only  to 
truths  that  are  necessary,  and  riot  to  those  that  are  contingent. 

Obs.  Of  all  created  things,  the  existence,  the  attributes,  and, 
consequently,  the  relations  resulting  from  those  attributes,  are 
conting-ent.  They  depend  on  the  power  and  will  of  him  who 
made  them.  These  are  matters  of  fact,  and  admit  not  of  demon- 
stration. 

Carol.  The  field  of  Demonstrative  Reasoning,  therefore,  is  the 
various  relations  of  things  abstract ;  that  is  to  say,  of  things  which 
we  conceive,  without  regard  to  their  existence.  We  have  a  clear 
and  adequate  comprehension  of  these,  as  they  are  conceived  by 
the  mind,  and  are  nothing  but  what  they  are  conceived  to  be. 
Their  relations  and  attributes  are  immutable. 

Obs.  1.  They  are  the  things  to  which  the  Pythagoreans  and 
Platonists  gave  the  name  of  ideas  ;  and,  if  we  take  leave  to  bor- 
row this  meaning  of  the  word  idea  from  those  ancient  philosophers, 
we  must  then  agree  with  them  that,  ideas  are  the  onhj  objects  about 
which  we  can  reason  demonstratively. 

2.  There  are  many  even  of  our  ideas  about  which  we  can  carry 
on  no  considerable  train  of  reasoning;  let  them  be  ever  so  well  de- 
fined, ever  so  perfectly  comprehended,  their  agreements  and  disa- 
greements are  few,  and  these  are  discernible  at  once.     A  step  or 


140  .#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11. 

two  brings  us  to  the  conclusion,  and  there  we  are  stopped.  (Ex- 
ample 294.)  There  are  others,  about  which  we  may,  by  a  long 
train  of  demonstrative  Reasoning-,  arrive  at  conclusions  very  remote 
and  unexpected. 

304.  Demonstrative  Reasonings  are   reducible  to  two 
classes : 

1.  They  are  either  METAPHYSICAL, 
II.  Or  they  are  MATHEMATICAL. 

Illus.  1.  In  Metaphysical  Reasoning,  the  process  is  always  short. 
The  conclusion  is  but  a  step  or  two,  seldom  more,  from  the  first 
principle,  or  axiom,  on  which  it  is  grounded,  and  the  different  con- 
clusions depend  one  upon  another. 

2.  In  Mathematical  Reasoning,  on  the  contrary,  the  field  has  no 
limits.     One  proposition  leads  on  to  a  second,  that  to  a  third,  and 
j»o  on,  without  end.     And  the  reason  why  demonstrative  Reasoning 
has  such  extensive  limits  in  the  Mathematics,  is  owing  chiefly  to 
the  nature  of  quantity,  which  is  the  object  of  Mathematical  Reason- 
ing- 

Example  1 .  Every  quantity,  as  it  has  magnitude,  and  is  divisible 
into  parts  without  end ;  so,  in  respect  of  its  magnitude,  it  has  a  cer- 
tain ratio  to  every  quantity  of  that  kind.  The  ratios  of  quantities 
are  innumerable  ;  such  as  a  half,  a  third,  a  fourth,  a  tenth,  double, 
triple,  quadruple,  centuple,  and  so  on.  All  the  powers  of  number 
are  insufficient  to  express  the  varieties  of  ratios.  For  there  are  in- 
numerable ratios  which  cannot  be  expressed  perfectly  by  numbers ; 
such  as,  the  ratio  of  the  side  to  the  diagonal  of  a  square,  of  the  cir- 
cumference of  a  circle  to  its  diameter.  And,  of  this  infinite  variety 
of  ratios,  every  ratio  may  be  clearly  conceived,  and  distinctly  ex- 
pressed, so  that  it  shall  not  be  mistaken  for  any  other. 

2.  Extended  quantities,  such  as  lines,  surfaces,  solids,  besides 
the  variety  of  relations  they  have  in  respect  of  magnitude,  have  no 
less  variety  in  respect  Q£  Jignw,  and  every  Mathematical  figure 
may  be  accurately  defined,  so  as  to  be  distinguished  from  every 
other  figure. 

Illus.  3.  There  is  nothing  of  this  kind  in  other  objects  of  abstract 
Reasoning.  Some  of  them  have  various  degrees ;  butthese'are  not 
capable  of  measure,  nor  can  they  be  said  to  have  an  assignable  ra- 
tio to  others  of  the  kind*  They  are  either  simple,  or  compounded 
of  a  few  indivisible  parts ;  and,  therefore,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  touch  only  in  a  few  points-.  But  Mathematical  quanti- 
ties being  made  up  of  parts  without  number,  can  touch  in  innume- 
rable points,  and  be  compared  ia  innumerable  different  ways. 

305.  Some  Demonstrations  are  called  direct,  others  in- 
direct. 

Hlus.  1.  Every  Youth  acquainted  with  the  elements  of  Euclid, 
knows  that  Direct  Demonstration  leads  straight  forward  to  the  con- 
clusion to  be  drawn,  while  the  indirect  arrives  at  the  proof  by  a  pro- 
position contradictory  to  that  which  is  to  be  proved.  The  inference 
drawn  from  Demonstration  ad  absurdum,  is  grounded  on  an  axiom 
in  logic,  "That  of  two  contradictory  propositions,  if  one  be  false^ 
'he  other  must  be  true," 


CHAP.  xi.  Of  Reason.  141 

2.  Another  kind  of  indirect  Demonstration  proceeds  by  enume- 
rating1 all  the  suppositions  that  can  possibly  be  made  concerning- 
the  proposition  to  be  proved,  and  then  demonstrating-,  that,  except 
that  which  is  to  be  proved,  all  of  them  are  false  ;  whence  it  fol- 
lows, that  the  ex cepted  proposition  is  true. 

Example.  Thus  one  line  is  proved  to  be  equal  to  another,  by 
proving-  Jlrst  that  it  cannot  be  greater ;  and  then  that  it  cannot  be 
less ;  for  it  must  be  either  greater,  or  less,  or  equal ;  and  two  of 
these  suppositions  being-  demonstrated  to  be  false,  the  third  must 
be  trite. 

III.  Analysis  of  Probable  Reasoning. 

306.  The  field  of  Demonstration,  as  has  been  shewn,  is 
necessary  truth ;  the  field  of  PROBABLE  REASONING  is  con- 
tingent truth,  not  what  necessarily  must  be  at  all  times,  but 
what  is;  or  was,  or  shall  be. 

307.  No  contingent  truth  is  capable  of  strict  Demonstra- 
tion ;  but  necessary  truths   may  sometimes  have  probable 
evidence. 

nius.  1.  Dr.  Wallis  discovered  many  important  truths,  by  that 
kind  of  induction  which  draws  a  general  conclusion  from  particular 
premises.  This  is  not  strict  Demonstration,  but,  in  some  cases,  it 
£ives  as  full  conviction  as  Demonstration  itself;  and  a  man  may  be 
certain,  that  a  truth  is  demonstrable  before  it  ever  has  been  demon- 
strated, (Art.  133.  Illus.)  In  other  cases,  a  Mathematical  propo- 
sition may  have  such  probable  evidence  from  induction  or  analogy, 
as  encourages  the  mathematician  to  investigate  its  Demonstration, 
(Illus.  2.  Art.  304.)  But  still  the  Reasoning  proper  to  Mathemat- 
ical and  other  necessary  truths,  is  Demonstration,-  and  that  which  is 
proper  to  contingent  truths,  is  Probable  Reasoning. 

2.  These  two  kinds  of  Reasoning-  differ  in  other  respects.  First. 
in  demonstrative  Reasoning-,  one  argument  is  as  good  as  a  thousand. 
One  Demonstration  may  be  more  elegant  than  another;  it  may  be 
more  easily  comprehended,  or  it  may  be  more  subservient  to  some 
purpose  beyond  the  present.  On  any  of  these  accounts  it  may  de- 
serve a  preference.  But  then,  it  is  sufficient  by  itself;  it  needs  no 
aid  from  another ;  it  can  receive  none.  To  add  more  demonstra- 
tions of  the  same  conclusion,  would  be  a  kind  of  tautology  in  Rea- 
soning ;  because  one  demonstration,  clearly  comprehended,  gives 
all  the  Evidence  we  are  capable  of  receiving. 

Secondly.  The  strength  of  Probable  Reasoning,  for  the  most  part, 
depends  not  upon  any  one  argument,  but  upon  many,  which  unite 
their  force,  and  lead  to  the  same  conclusion.  Any  one  of  them  by 
itself  would  be  insufficient  to  convince ;  but  the  whole  taken  to- 
gether may  have  a  force  that  is  irresistible,  so  that  to  desire  more 
Evidence  would  be  absurd.  Who,  for  example,  would  seek  new 
arguments  to  prove  that  there  were  such  persons  as  Maria  Antoi- 
nette and  Queen  Charlotte ;  or  Charles  the  First  and  Oliver  Crom- 
well ? 

Corol.  Such  Evidence  of  Probable  Reasoning-  maybe  compared 

13  * 


=fe4£  ci  Grwumar  of -Logic.  BOOK,  ii, 

to  a  rope  made  up-  of  many  slender  filaments  twisted  tog-ether. — 
The  rope  lias^stre*?g-th  Ynore  than  sufficient  to  bear  the  stress  laid 
upon  it,  thpfrglf  no  one  of  the  filaments  of-  which  it  is  composed 
would  be* sufficient  of  itself  for  that  purpose . 

30$.  It  is  unreasonable  to  require  Demonstration  for 
things  which  do  not  admit  of  it ;  nor  is  it  less  unreasonable 
to  require  reasoning  of  any  kind  for  things  which  are  known 
without  Reasoning.  All  Reasoning  must  be  grounded  upon 
truths  which  are  known  without  Reasoning. 

filus.  Iii  every  branch  of  real  knowledge,  there  must  be  frai 
principles,  the  truth  of  which  is  known  intuitively, -without  Jieason- 
ing-,  either  Probable  or  Demonstrative,  (Art,  45.)  Thejr.  ,are  not 
grounded  on  reasoning",  but  all  reasoning-  is  grounded  oft  them. 
There  are  first  principles  of  necessary  truths,  (Ilfus.  1.  &,  2.  Art.  52.) 
and  first  principles  of  contingent  truths,  (Obs.  and  Carol.  Art.  60.) 
.Demonstrative  Reasoning  is  grounded  upon  the  former,  and  Proba- 
ble Reasoning  upon  the  latter. 

309.  Probable  Evidence  has  a  popular  meaning,  which 
\ve  must  not  confound  with  the  philosophical  meaning  above 
explained. 

Ulus.  1.  In  common  language,  Probable  Evidence  is  considered 
as  an  inferior  degree  of  Evidence,  and  is  opposed  to  certainty  ;  so 
that  what  is  only  probable  is  not  certain.  Philosophers  consider  Pro^ 
bable  Evidence  not  as  a  degree,  but  as  a  species  of  Evidence  which 
is  opposed,  not  to  certainty,  but  to  another  species  of  Evidence., 
called  Demonstration. 

2,  Demonstrative  Evidence  has  no  degrees ;  but  Probable  Evi- 
dence, taken  in  the  Philosophical  sense,  has  all  degrees,  from  the 
very  least  to  the  greatest,  which  we  call  certainty. 

Example.  That  there  is  such  a  city  as  Edinburgh,  I  am  as  certain, 
as  of  any  proposition  in  my  Euclid ;  but  the  Evidence  is  not  de- 
monstrative, but  of  that  kind  which  philosophers  call  probable.  Yet, 
in  common  language,  it  would  sound  oddly  in  me  to  say  to  Mr.  Gil- 
bert, my  Printer,  that,  "  It  is  probable  there  is  such  a  city  as  Edin- 
burghj"  because  it  would  imply  some  degree  of  doubt  or  uncer- 
tainty. 

Carol.  Taking  Probable  Evidence,  therefore,  in  the  philosophical 
sense,  as  it  is  opposed  to  demonstrative,  it  may  have  any  degree 
of  Evidence,  from  the  least  to  the  greatest. 

310.  In  most  cases,  we  measure  the  degrees  of  evidence 
by  the  effect  they  have  upon  a  sound  understanding,  when 
comprehended  clearly,  and  without  prejudice* 

Illus.  Every  degree  of  evidence  perceived  by  the  mind,  produ- 
ces a  proportional  degree  of  assent,  or  belief.  The  judgment  may  be 
in  perfect  suspense  between  two  contradictory  opinions,  when 
there  is  no  Evidence  for  either,  or  equal  Evidence  for  both.  The 
feast  prjepouderancy  on  one  side  inclines  the  judgment  in  propor- 
tion. Belief  is  mixed  with  doubK  more  or  less,  until  we  come  t^ 


CHAP.  xi.  Of  Reason.  143 

the  highest  degree  of  Evidence,  when  all  doubt  vanishes,  and  the 
belief  is  firm  and  immoveable.  This  degree  of  Evidence,  the  high- 
est the  human  faculties  can  attain,  we  call  certainty. 

IV.  Division  of  Probable  Evidence  into  different  Kinds. 

311.  Probable  evidence   not  only  differs  in  kind  from 
demonstrative,  but  is  itself  of  different  kinds. 

Obs.  Without  pretending1  to  make  the  enumeration  complete,  we 
select,  from  Dr.  Reid,  the  following'  kinds  of  Probable  Evidence. 

1.  The  Evidence  of  human  testimony,  upon  which  the  greater 
part  of  knowledge  is  built. 

II.  The  authority  of  those  who  are  good  judges  of  the  point  in 
question. 

III.  That  whereby  we  recognize  the  identity  of  things,  and  per- 
sons of  our  acquaintance. 

IV.  That  which  we  have  of  men's  future  actions  and  conduct, 
from  the  general  principles  of  action  in  man,  or  from  our  know- 
ledge of  the  individuals. 

V.  That  by  which  we  collect  men's  characters  and  designs  from 
their  actions,  speech,  and  other  external  signs. 

VI.  That  which  mathematicians  call  the  Probability  of  Chances. 

VII.  That  by  which  the  known  laws  of  Nature  have  been  disco- 
vered, and  the  effects  which  have  been  produced  by  them,  in  for- 
mer ages,  or  which  may  be  expected  in  time  to  come.     Now,  to 
illustrate  these  different  kinds  of  probable  Evidence. 

312.  (i.)  The  probable  evidence  of  HUMAN  TESTIMONY  is 
that  upon  which  the  greatest  part  of  human  knowledge  is 
built. 

Illus.  1.  The  faith  of  history  is  built  upon  it,  as  well  as  the  judg- 
ment of  solemn  tribunals  with  regard  to  men's  acquired  rights,  and 
with  regard  to  their  guilt  or  innocence,  when  they  are  charged  with 
crimes.  A  great  part  of  the  business  of  the  judge,  of  the  counsel 
at  the  bar,  of  the  historian,  pf  the  critic,  and  of  the  antiquarian,  is, 
to  canvass  and  weigh  this  kind  of  Evidence  ;  and  no  man  can  act 
with  common  prudence  in  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  life,  who  has 
not  some  competent  judgment  of  it.  (See  Art.  64.  Illus.  1,  2,  3.  and 
CorolJ 

2.  The  belief  which,  in  many  cases,  we  give  to  testimony,  is  not 
solely  grounded  upon  the  veracity  of  the  testifier.     In  a  single  tes- 
timony, we  consider  the  motives  which  a  witness  might  have  to 
falsify.     If  there  be  no  appearance  of  any  such  motive,  much  more, 
if  there  be  motives  on  the  other  side,  his  testimony  has  weight  in- 
dependent of  his  moral  character.     If  the  testimony  be  circumstan- 
tial, we  consider  how  far  the  circumstances  agree  together,  and  with 
things  that  are  known.     It  is  so  very  difficult  to  fabricate  a  story, 
which  cannot  be  detected  by  a  judicious  examination  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, that  circumstantial  testimony  always  acquires  evidence 
by  being  able  to  bear  such  a  trial.     There  is  an  art  in  judicial  pro- 
ceeding's, in  detecting  false  evidence,  well  known  to  able  judges 


144  JH  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  a, 

and  barristers,  so  that  we  daily  hear  of  witnesses  leaving  behind 
them  at  the  bar  a  suspicion  of  perjury. 

Carol.  Where  there  is  an  agreement  of  many  witnesses,  in  a  great 
variety  of  circumstances,  without  the  possibility  of  a  previous  con- 
cert, the  Evidence  may  be  equal  to  that  of  Demonstration. 

313.  (n.)  A  second  kind  of  Probable  Evidence,  is,  the 
AUTHORITY  of  those  who  are  GOOD  JUDGES  of  the  point  in 
question. 

Jllus.  The  supreme  court  of  judicature  of  the  British  nation,  (the 
PARLIAMENT,)  is  often  determined  by  the  opinion  of  lawyers,  in  a 
point  of  law ;  of  physicians,  in  a  point  of  medicine  ;  and  of  other 
artists  in  what  relates  to  their  several  professions.  And,  in  the 
common  affairs  of  life,  we  frequently  rely  upon  the  judgment  of 
others  in  points  of  which  we  are  not  proper  judges  ourselves. 

314.  (in.)  A  third  kind  of  Probable  Evidence,  is,  that  by 
which  we  recognize  the  IDENTITY  of  things,  arid  persons  of 
our  acquaintance. 

Illus.  That  two  swords,  two  horses,  two  men,  may  be  so  perfect- 
ly alike,  as  not  to  be  distinguishable  by  those  to  whom  they  are  best 
known,  cannot  be  shown  to  be  impossible.  Who  that  has  not,  from 
this  identity,  mistaken,  in  the  street,  an  entire  stranger  for  a  friend? 
But  we  learn,  either  from  nature,  or  from  experience,  that  it  never 
happens,  or  so  very  rarely,  that  a  person,  or  thing,  well  known  to 
us,  is  immediately  recognized  without  any  doubt,  when  we  perceive 
the  marks  or  signs  by  which  we  were  wont  to  distinguish  him  or  it 
from  all  other  individuals  of  the  kind. 

Carol.  This  Evidence  we  rely  upon  in  the  most  important  affairs 
of  life;  and,  by  this  Evidence,  the  identity  both  of  .things  and  of 
persons,  is  determined  in  courts  of  judicature.  (See  Art.llb.  Illus.  2.) 

315.  (iv.)  A  fourth  kind  of  Probable  Evidence,  is,  that 
which  we  have  of  men's  future  actions  and  conduct,  from  the 
GENERAL  PRINCIPLES  of  action  in  man,  or  from  our  know- 
ledge of  the  individuals.     (See  Art.  87.  Illus.  1  and  2.) 

Illus.  1.  In  spite  of  all  the  folly  and  vice  that  we  behold  among 
our  species,  there  is  a  certain  degree  of  prudence  and  probity  upon 
which  we  rely,  in  every  man  that  is  not  an  inhabitant  of  a  mad- 
house. The  pupil  may  find,  in  his  own  experience,  a  thousand 
examples  to  confirm  this  illustration.  Men  are  not  so  much  dispos- 
ed to  hurt  as  to  do  good  to  each  other ;  to  lie  as  to  speak  truth, 
else  would  the  race  soon  perish  :  there  is,  therefore,  notwithstand- 
ing the  absurd  dogmas  of  some  fanatics,  a  greater  share  of  g*ood  than 
of  evil,  and  of  truth  than  of  falsehood,  in  the  world. 

2.  We  expect  that  men  will  take  some  care  of  themselves,  of 
their  family,  their  friends,  and  reputation  :  that  they  will  not  injure 
others  without  some  temptation :  that  they  will  have  some  gratitude 
for  good  offices,  and  some  resentment  of  injuries. 

Carol.  Such  maxims,  with  regard  to  human  conduct,  are  the 
foundation  of  all  political  reasoning,  and  of  common  prudence  in 
the  conduct  of  life. 


ivHAp.  XK  Of  Reason.  145 

316.  (v.)  Another  kind  of  Probable  Evidnce,  the  coun- 
terpart of  the  last,  is,  that  by  which  we  collect  men's  c HA- 
HA  CTERS  and  designs  from  their  actions,  speech,  and  other 
external  signs.     (See  Illus.  1  and  2.  JUrt.  87.) 

Illus.  We  see  not  the  hearts  of  men,  nor  are  the  principles  by 
which  they  are  actuated  labelled  on  their  forehead ;  but  there  are 
external  signs  of  their  principles  and  dispositions,  which,  though 
not  certain,  may  sometimes  be  more  trusted  than  their  professions ; 
and  it  is  from  external  signs  that  we  must  draw  all  the  knowledge. 
which  we  can  attain  of  men's  characters. 

317.  (vi.)  The  next  kind  of  Probable  Evidence  we  men- 
tioned, is,  that  which  mathematicians  call  the  PROBABILITY 
of  Chances. 

Illus.  Chance  is  not  commonly  understood,  either  in  philosphy  or 
in  vulgar  language,  to  imply  the  exclusion  of  a  cause,  but  our  igno- 
rance of  the  cause.  When  the  term  is  employed  to  denote  bare 
possibility  of  an  event,  when  nothing  is  known  either  to  produce  or 
hinder  it ;  in  this  meaning  it  can  never  be  made  the  subject  of  cal- 
culation. In  the  former  sense  are  understood  all  the  chances  about 
which  my  friend  Mr.  G.  Davies,  or  any  other  mathematician  reasons, 
in  the  calculations  of  assurances,  annuities,  reversions,  &c. 

Example.  In  throwing  a  die  upon  a  table,  we  say  there  is  an 
equal  chance  which  of  the  six  sides  shall  be  turned  up ;  because 
neither  the  person  who  throws,  nor  the  bystanders,  can  know  the 
precise  measure  of  force  and  direction  necessary  to  turn  up  one  side 
rather  than  another.  There  are  here,  therefore,  six  events,  one  of 
which  must  happen ;  and  as  all  are  supposed  to  have  equal  proba- 
bility, the  probability  of  any  one  side  being  turned  up,  the  ace,  for 
instance,  is  as  one  to  the  remaining  number  Jive.  The  probability 
of  turning  up  tioo  aces  with  two  dice,  is  as  one  to  thirty-foe,-  because 
here  there  are  thirty -six  events,  each  of  which  has  equal  probability,, 

Coral.  1.  Upon  such  principles  as  these,  the  doctrine  of  chances 
bas  furnished  a  field  of  Demonstrative  Reasoning  of  great  extent, 
although  the  events  about  which  this  Reasoning  is  employed,  be 
not  necessary,  but  contingent  ,»  and  be  not  certain,  but  probable. 

2.  This  may  seem  to  contradict  a  principle  before  advanced,  that 
contingent  truths  are  not  capable  of  demonstration  (~Jlrt.  307.  Illus. 
1.)  ;  but  it  does  not: — -For,  in  the  Mathematical  Reasoning's  about 
chance,  the  conclusion  demonstrated  is  not,  that  such  an  event  shall 
happen,  but  that  the  probability  of  its  happening  bears  suck  a  ratio 
to  the  probability  of  its  failing' ;  and  this  conclusion  is  necessary 
upon  the  suppositions  on  which  it  is  grounded. 

318.  (vn.)  The  last  kind  of  Probable  Evidence  we  enu- 
merated, is,  that  by  which  the  known  laws  of  nature  have 
been  discovered,  and  the  effects  which  have  been  produced 
by  them  in  former  ages,  or  which  may  be  expected  in  time  to 
come.  (See  Illus.  J3rt.  45.) 

Illw,  1,  The  laws  of  Nature  are  the  rules  by  which  the  Supremo 


146  *fl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

Being-  governs  the  world.  We  deduce  them  only  from  facts  which 
fall  within  our  own  observation,  or  are  properly  attested  by  those 
who  have  observed  them.  (See  Art.  74.  Illus.J 

2.  The  knowledge  of  some  of  these  laws  is  necessary  to  all  men, 
and  all   men  soon  discover  them.     Who  does  not  know  that  fire 
burns,  that  water  drowns,  that  bodies  gravitate  towards  the  earth ; 
that  day  and  night,  spring  and  autumn,  regularly  succeed  each 
other.'*     As  far  back  as  our  experience  and  information  reach,  we 
know  that  these  have  happened;  and,  upon  this  ground,  we  are  led, 
by  the  constitution   of  human  nature,   to   expect  that  they  will 
happen  in  time  to  come,  in  like  circumstances,     flllus.  Art.  75.) 

3.  The  knowledge  which  the  philosopher  attains  of  the  laws  of 
nature,  differs  from  that  of  the  vulgar,  not  in  the  first  principles  on 
which  it  is  grounded,   but  in  its  extent  and  accuracy.     He  collects 
with  care  the  phenomena  that  lead  to  tfte  same  conclusion,  and 
compares  them  with  those  that  seem  to  contradict  or  to  limit  it. 
He  observes  the  circumstances  on  which,  every  phenomenon  de- 
pends, and  distinguishes  them  carefully  from  those  that  are  acci- 
dentally  conjoined  with  it.     He  puts   natural  bodies  in  various 
situations,  and  applies  them  to  one  another  in  various  ways,  on 
purpose  to  observe  the  effect ;  and  thus  acquires  from  his  senses  a 
more  extensive  knowledge  of  the  course  of  nature,  in  a  short  time, 
than  could  be  collected  by  casual  observation  in  many  ages. 

4.  The  result  of  his  laborious  researches  is  then  barely  this  : — as 
far  as  he  has  been  able  to  observe,  such  things  have  always  hap- 
pened, in  such  circumstances,  and  such  bodies  have  always  been 
found  to  have  such  properties.     These  are  matters  of  fact,  attested 
^>y  sense  and  memory,  £"d  te5tir™!}y.  just  as  the  few  facts  which 
the  vulgar  know  are  attested  to  them. 

5.  And  the  conclusions  which  the  philosopher  draws  from  the 
facts  which  he  has  collected,  are  barely  these  : — that  like  events 
have  happened  in  former  times,  in  like  circumstances,   and  will 
happen  in  time  to  come  ;  and  these  conclusions  are  built  on  the 
very  ground  on  which  the  simple  rustic  concludes  that  the  sun  will 
rise  to-morrow.     (See  Art.  76.  Carol.) 

6.  Facts  reduced  to  general  rules,  and  the  consequences  of  those 
general  rules,  are  all  that  we  really  know  of  the  material  world. 
And  the  Evidence  that  such  general  rules  have  no  exceptions,  as 
well  as  the  Evidence  that  they  will  be  the  same  in  time  to  come  as 
they  have  been  in  time  past,  can  never  be  demonstrative.     It  is 
only  that  species  of  Evidence  which  philosophers  call  probable. 
General  rules  may  have  exceptions,  or  limitations,  which  no  man 
ever  had  occasion  to  observe.     The  laws  of  nature  may  be  changed 
by  Him  who  established  them.     But  we  are  led,  by  our  constitution, 
to  rely  upon  their  continuance  with  as  little  doubt  as  if  it  were 
demonstrable. 

Note.  The  foregoing  classification  of  Probable  Evidence  makes  it 
incumbent  on  me  that  I  enumerate  also  a  few  of  \kzfirst  principles  ^ 
or  intuitive  truths,  which  other  philosophers  have  laid  down  as  the 
bases  of  Evidence  ;  and  the  more  so  as  the  sophistry  of  all  knaves 
is  founded  en  the  perversion,  or  the  setting  aside,  of  such  first 
principles. 

319.  FATHER  BUFFIER>  a  name  entitled  to  the  highest 


xi.  Of  Keason.  14? 

encomium,  finds  two  great  sources  from  which  he  derives  his 
first  principles,  viz. 

I.  The  consciousness  we  have  of  our  own  thoughts. 

II.  Common  seme; — a  phraseology  which  he  employs  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  language,  as  denoting  the  faculty 
by  which  men  form  judgments  on  the  ordinary  objects  of  their 
experience,  which  are  not  proper  subjects  of  consciousness. 

320.  The  following,  though  not  perhaps  a  complete  enu- 
meration, are  the  examples  of  this  good  man's  principles  of 
common  sense*. 

I.  There  are  other  beings,  and  other  men  in  the  world  besides 
myself. 

"ll.  There  is  in  them  something-  that  is  called  truth,  wisdom,  pru- 
dence ;  and  this  something  is  not  merely  arbitrary.  (See  Art.  58. 
Corol.J 

III.  There  is  in  me  something  that  I  call  intelligence,  or  mind  ; 
:md  something  which  is  not  that  intelligence,  or  mind,  and  which  is 
named  body  /  so  that  each  possesses  properties  different  from  the 
other.   (See  Art.  52.  and  54.) 

IV.  What  is   generally  said  and  taught  by  men  in   all  ages  and 
countries  of  the  world  is  true.     CArt.  60.) 

V.  All  men  have  not  combined  to  deceive  and  impose  upon  me. 

VI.  What  is  not  intelligence,  or  mind,  cannot  produce  all  the 
effects  of  intelligence  or  mind ;  neither  can  a  fortuitous  jumble  of 
p articles  of  matter  form  a  work  of  such  order,  and  so  regular  mo- 
tion, as  a  watch.  (  Carol.  Art.  73.) 

321.  This  original  thinker  mentions  three  qualities,  or 
tests, by  which  first  truths,  or  maxims  of  common  sense,  may 
be  distinguished  from  all  others. 

o 

I.  They  are  so  clear,  that  they  cannot  be  proved  by  any  thing- 
clearer. 

II.  They  have  been  admitted  in  all  countries,  and  at  all  times,  with 
exceedingly  few  exceptions. 

III.  They  are  so  strongly  imprinted  in  our  minds,  that  we  regu- 
late our  conduct  by  them,  in  spite  of  all  the  speculative  refinements 
of  that  philosophy  which  denies  them. 

Gbs.  Tiiis  illustrious  genius  lived  in  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century.  Buftier  considers  the  testimony  of  the  senses  as  at  best 
affording  but  Probable  Evidence,  and  by  no  means  entitled  to  be 
ranked  on  the  footing  of  certain  and  intuitive  truth  ;  and  he  places 
the  evidence  of  Memory  on  the  same  level  as  the  evidence  of  sense. 
As  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain,  he  was  the  FIRST  who  suc- 
cessfully taught  the  important  science  of  Jtrst  truths,  in  opposition 
to  the  career  of  scepticism  that  then  stalked  over  Europe.  To  M. 
Buffier's  writings  may  be  traced  some  of  the  finest  thoughts  which 
sparkle  like  diamonds  in  the  productions  of  Drs.  Reid,  Beattie, 
Campbell,  and  Paley. 

*  See  his  "  Traite  des  Premiers  Verites  et  de  la  Source  des  nos 
Judgmens." 


148  *#  Grammar  of  Logic.  EOOK  ir. 

322.  Dr.  Beattie,  in  his  "  Essay  on  the  Immutability  of 
Truth,"  makes  many  observations  on  the  nature  of  Evi- 
dence, the  grounds  of  rational  Belief,  and  the  different  kinds 
of  Truth.     In  this  work  the  author  proposes  the  following 
enumeration  of  the  various  kinds  of  evidence  and  sources  oi 
belief. 

J.  Mathematical  Evidence. 

II.  The  evidence  of  External  Sense. 

III.  The  evidence  of  Consciousness. 

IV.  The  evidence  of  Jlfemory. 

V.  That  evidence  which  we  have,  when  from  effects,  tue  infer  causes. 

VI.  Probable  Evidence. 

VII.  The  evidence  of  Testimony. 

Obs.  1.  The  first  Jive  he  states  to  be  certain  and  intuitive  truths, 
or  maxims  of  common  sense.  The  remaining1  two,  he  likewise  con- 
siders intuitive  truths,  or  maxims  of  sense,  but  which  Dr.  Reid  holds 
to  be  only  probable,  and  not  certain  ;  and  he  divides  the  sixth  class 
into  two  species. 

1st.  The  evidence  by  which  we  judge  of  future  events  by  our 
past  experience  from  similar  events  ;  and, 

2dly.  The  evidence  of  analogy. 

Obs.  2.  In  Dr.  Campbell's  "  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,"  (which 
proceeded  from  the  same  school,  at  the  head  of  which  is  Father 
Buffier,  and  which  gave  birth  to  the  writings  of  Reid  and  Beattie,) 
are  ably  handled,  with  the  greatest  similarity  of  sentiments  to  Dr. 
Reid,  the  two  kinds  of  evidence,  Intuitive  and  Deductive. 

323.  According  to  Dr.  Campbell,   INTUITIVE  evidence  is 
that  which  is  admitted  immediately,  on  a  bare  attention  to 
the  ideas  under  review ;  and  DEDUCTIVE,  which  is  admitted 
mediately,  by  a  comparison  of  these  with  other  ideas. 

Ilhis.  1.  Intuitive  evidence  the  Doctor  arranges  under  three 
heads. 

1.  MATHEMATICAL  AXIOMS,   which  he  states  to  be  the  result  of 
pure  Intellection. 

II.  CONSCIOUSNESS;  and^ 

III.  COMMON  SENSE  ;  under  which  last  he  comprehends  both  the 
evidence  of  Sense  and  Memory. 

2.  Deductive  evidence  is  founded  upon  the  Intuitive  ;    and  Dr, 
Campbell  considers  it  as  of  two  kinds  :-r-First,  that  which  is  foun- 
ded  upon  the  axioms  of  pure  intellection ;    and,    Secondly,   that 
which  is  founded  upon  the  dictates  of  consciousness  and  common 
sense,  which  he  calls  Moral  or  Probable  Evidence,  and  divides 
into — 

I.  The  knowledge  we  derive  from  experience. 
IT.  That  from  analogy. 

III.  That  from  testimony ;  and, 

IV.  The  calculation  of  chances ;  which  last  he  considers  as  a 
mixed  kind  of  evidence,  partly  certain,  and  partly  probable  only. 

Note.  Truth  is  one,  in  which  we  have  all  a  common  property ; 


CHAP.  xn.  Of  Moral  Perception.  i4i) 

and  the  greatest  pleasure  I  have  in  closing1  this  Chapter,  is,  to  refer 
my  readers  to  the  writings  of  those  celebrated  men  whose  names  1 
have  mentioned,  and  to  the  "  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the 
Human  Mind,"  by  Mr.  Stewart.  These  productions  are  so  many 
altars  of  truth  :  the  live  coal  on  which  is  common  sense — its  vestal. 
Reason, 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  MORAL  PERCEPTION. 

324.  MORAL  PERCEPTION  is  the  faculty  which  determines 
*he  choice  of  a  rational  being,  as  to  what  is  good  for  him 
upon  the  whole,  and  what  appears  to  be  duty. 

Obs.  1.  That  there  is  such  a  faculty  as  .Moral  Perception  in  man, 
I  take  for  granted,  on  two  grounds ;  first,  because  he  is  endowed 
with  Consciousness,  Memory,  and  Judgment;  Secondly,  because 
this  faculty  can '  have  no  existence  but  in  a  being  endowed  \vith 
Reason  and  all  the  other  faculties,  upon  which,  as  principles  or 
auxiliaries,  it  displays  its  exertions,  in  the  various  acts  of  Intention, 
of  Will,  and  of  Judgment. 

2.  This  faculty  spreads  before  our  view  a  wide  and  variegated 
field  of  discursive  inquiry  and  illustration,  and  we  shall  therefore 
arrange  it  under  several  sections. 

I.  The  Rational  Principles  of  Action  in  Man. 

325.  There  can  be  no  exercise  of  reason  without  judg- 
ment;   nor,  on  the  other  hand,   any  judgment  of  things 
abstract  and  general,  without  some  degree  of  reason. 

Corol.  If,  therefore,  there  be  in  the  human  constitution  any 
principles  of  action,  which,  in  their  nature,  necessarily  imply  such 
judgment,  they  are  the  principles  which  we  may  call  rational,  to 
distinguish  them  from  a?ihnal  principles,  which  imply  desire  and 
will,  but  not  judgment. 

326.  Every  deliberate  action  must  be  done  either  as  the 
means,  or  as  an  end  ;  as  the  means  to  some  end  to  which  it 
is  subservient,  or  as  an  end  for  its  own  sake,  and  without 
regard  to  any  thing  beyond  itself;  and  that  it  is  a  part  of 
the  office  of  reason  to  determine  what  are  the  proper  means 
to  any  end  which  we  desire,  no  man  ever  denied.     The 
philosophers,  who  assign  to  Taste,  or  Feeling,  the  office 
which  we  assign  to  Reason,  cease  to  consider  Reason  a 
principle  of  action. 

14 


150  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  if, 

Obs.  We  shall,  therefore,  endeavour  to  shew,  that,  among  the 
•various  ends  of  human  actions,  there  are  some  of  which,  without 
Reason,  we  could  not  even  form  a  conception  ;  and  that,  as  soon  as 
they  are  perceived,  a  regard  to  them  is,  by  our  constitution,  not 
only  a  principle  of  action,  but  a  leading  and  governing  principle,  to 
which  all  our  animal  principles  are  subservient,  and  to  which  they 
ought  to  be  subject. 

CoroL  These  we  call  rational  principles,  because  they  can  only 
exist  in  being's  endowed  with  Reason  ;  and  because,  to  act  from 
those  principles,  is,  what  has  always  been  meant  by  acting  accor- 
ding to  Reason. 

327.  The  ends  of  human  actions  which  we  have  here  in 
view,  are  two. 

First.  What  is  good  for  us  upon  the  whole. 
And  what  appears  to  be  duty. 


II.  Of  regard  to  our  good  on  the  whole. 
328.  It  will  not  be  denied,  that  as  soon  as  we  come  U, 
years  of  understanding,  we  are  led,  by  our  rational  powers, 
to  form  the  conception  of  what  is  good  for  us  upon  the  whole, 

Obs.  The  general  notion  of  g  oocl,  which  enters  the  mind  at  an 
early  age,  is  one  of  the  most  general  and  abstract  notions  we  form. 

529.  WHATEVER  makes  a  man  more  happy,  or  more  per- 
fect, is  GOOD,  and  is  an  object  of  desire  as  soon  as  he  is  ca- 
pable of  forming  the  conception  of  it.  The  contrary  is  ILL, 
and  is  an  object  of  aversion.  In  other  words,  the  neglect  of 
good  is  in  moral  actions,  matter  of  indignation  or  blame. 

CoroL  Hence  MORAL  LAWS  may  be  considered  under  different 
aspects,  and  distinguished  by  different  titles. 

I.  Considered  in  respect  to  their  source,  they  maybe  distinguish- 
ed as  original,  or  natural,  or  adventitious,  or  conventional. 

II.  Considered  in  respect  to  their  subjects,  they  may  be  distin- 
guished by  denominations  taken  from  those   subjects  ;  as,  laws  of 
'religion,  or  of  society,  —  as  laiis  of  peace  or  of  -war  ;  —  as,  laws  politi- 
cal, civil,  or  criminal. 

III.  Considered  in  respect  to  the  persons  to  whom  they  are  appli- 
cable, they  are  laws  of  nations,  or  the  laws  of  particular  states. 

350.  Moral  philosophy  is,  thence,  the  knowledge  of  Mo- 
ral laws,  respecting  their  sources  and  their  applications. 

Obs.  The  obligation  of  every  law,  whether  original  or  adventi- 
tious, general  or  partial,  may  be  resolved  into  an  obligation  of  the 
law  of  nature.  And  tlicjirst,  or  fundamental,  law  of  nature  to  man- 
kind, is,  an  expression  of  the  greatest  good  competent  to  man's 
nature.  All  subsequent  laws  are  branches  or  applications  of  this. 

531.  That  which,  taken  with  all  its  discoverable  connex- 
ions and  consequences,  brings  more  good  than  ill,  we  call 

GOOD  UPON  the  WHOLE. 


^HAP.  xii.  Of  Moral  Perception.  151 

lilus.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  brute  animals  have  any 
r.onception  of  this.  Nor  do  we  ourselves  have  any  conception  of 
what  is  good  for  us  on  the  whole,  till  reason  be  so  far  advanced, 
that  we  can  seriously  reflect  upon  the  past,  and  take  a  prospect  of 
the  future  part  of  our  existence. 

Coral.  It  appears,  therefore,  that  the  very  conception  of  what  is 
good  or  ill  for  us  upon  the  whole,  is  the  offspring-  of  reason,  and 
can  only  be  in  beings  endowed  with  reason.  And  if  this  concep- 
tion give  rise  to  any  principle  of  action  in  man,  which  he  had  not 
before,  that  principle  may  very  properly  be  called  a  rational  princi- 
ple of  action.  (See  the  first  Book  of  Cicero's  Offices.) 

332.  As  soon  as  we  have  the  conception  of  what  is  good 
or  ill  for  us  upon  the  whole,  we  are  led,  by  our  constitution, 
to  seek  the  good  and  avoid  the  ill ;  and  this  becomes  not 
only  a  principle  of   action,  but  a-    leading  or    governing 
principle,  to  which  all  our  animal  principles  ought  to  be 
subordinate. 

Him.  1.  In  intelligent  beings  the  desire  of  what  is  goo d,  and  the 
aversion  of  what  is  ill,  is  necessarily  connected  with  the  intelligent 
nature  ;  and  it  is  a  contradiction  to  suppose  such  a  being  to  have  the 
notion  of  good  without  the  desire  of  it,  or  the  notion  of  ill  without  an 
aversion  to  it. 

2.  To  prefer  a  greater  good,  though  distant,  to  a  less  good  that 
is  present — to  choose  a  present  evil,  in  order  to  avoid  a  greater  evil, 
or  to  obtain  a  greater  good, — is,  in  the  judgment  of  ail  men,  wise 
and  reasonable  conduct;  and,  when  a  man  acts  the  contrary  part, 
all  men  will  acknowledge  that  he  acts  foolishly  and  unreasonably. 

3.  No  man  was  ever  drawn  one  way  by  \\\s  animal  principles,  lead- 
Ing  him  to  vicious  indulgence,  without  at  the  same  time  experien- 
cing the  reflection,  thut  a  regard  to  what  is  good  on  the  whole,  pul- 
led, though  feebly,  in  the  contrary  direction. 

4.  That  in  every  conflict  of  this   kind,  the   rational  prinrlp^ 
ought  to  prevail,  and  the  animal  to  be  subordinate,  is  too  evident  to 
need  proof. 

Carol.  Thus,  it  appears,  that  to  pursue  what  is  good  upon  the 
whole,  and  to  avoid  what  is  ill  upon  the  whole,  is  a  rational  princi- 
ple of  action,  grounded  upon  our  constitution  as  reasonable  crea- 
tures. 

333.  It  appears,  that  it  is  not  without  just  cause,  that  this 
principle  of  action  has,  in  all  ages,  been  called  REASON,  in 
opposition  to  our  animal  principles,  which,  though  alike  the 
gift  of  the  Author  of  our  existence,  are,  in  common  language, 
called  by  the  general  name  of  Passions,* 

Illus.  The/rsZ  not  only  operates  in  a  calm  and  cool  manner,  like 
reason,  but  implies  real  judgment  in  all  its  operations.  The  second,  to 
wit,  the  passions,  are  blind  desires,  of  some  particular  object,  with- 
out any  judgment  or  consideration,  whether  it  be  good  or  ill  for  us 
upon  the  -whole. 

*  See  Cogan's  Philosophical  and  Ethical  Treatises  on  the  Passions, 


*32  *ft  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i£r 

334.  It  appears  also,  that  the  fundamental  maxim  of  pru- 
dence, and  of  all  good  morals — That  the  passions  ought,  in 
all  cases,  to  be  under  the  dominion  of  reason — is  not  only 
self-evident,  when  rightly  understood,  but  is  expressed  ac- 
cording to  the  common  use  and  propriety  of  language. 

Obs.  To  judge  of  what  is  true  or  false  in  speculative  points,  is- 
the  office  of  speculative  reason  /  and  to  judge  of  what  is  good  or 
ill  for  us  upon  the  whole,  is  the  office  of  practical  reason.  Of  true 
and  false  there  are  no  degrees  :  but  of  good  and  ill  there  are  mann 
degrees,  and  many  kinds  ;  and  we  are  very  apt  to  form  erroneous 
opinions  concerning-  them  ;  misled  by  our  passions,  by  the  authori- 
ty of  others,  (Art.  240.  Ittus.)  and  by  other  causes.  (See  the  Influ- 
ence of  Arbitrary  Associations,  as  it  affects  our  Moral  Judgments,, 
p.  101  and  102.) 

335.  Wise  men,  in  all  ages,  have  reckoned  it  a  chief 
point  of  wisdom,  to  make  a  right  estimate  of  the  good  and 
evils  of  life.     They  have  laboured  to  discover  the  errors  of 
the  multitude  on  this  important  point,  and  to  warn  others 
against  those  errors. 

Ilhis.  1.  The  same  station  or  condition  of  life,  which  makes  one 
man  happy,  makes  another  miserable,  and  to  a  third  it  is  perfectly 
indifferent.  We  see  some  men  miserable  through  life,  from  vain 
fears,  and  anxious  desires,  grounded  solely  upon  wrong  opinions, 
We  see  others  wear  themselves  out  with  toilsome  days  and  sleep* 
less  nights,  in  pursuit  of  some  object  which  they  never  attain  ;  or 
which,  when  attained,  gives  little  satisfaction,  perhaps  real  disgust. 

2.  The  evils  of  life  have  very  different  effects  upon  different  men ; 
what  sinks  one  into  despair  and  absolute  misery,  rouses  the  virtue 
and  magnanimity  of  another,  who  bears  it  as  the  lot  of  humanity., 
and  as  the  discipline  of  a  wise  and  merciful  Father  in  Heaven.  He 
rises  superior  to  adversity,  and  is  made  wiser  and  better  by  it,  and 
consequently  happier. 

Corol.  It  is,  therefore,  of  the  last  importance,  in  the  conduct  of 
life,  to  have  just  notions  with  respect  to  good  and  evil ;  and  surely 
it  is  the  province  of  reason  to  correct  wrong  opinions,  and  to  lead 
us  into  those  that  are  just  and  true. 

336.  He  who  feels  the  bad  effects  of  following  his  pas- 
sions and  appetites,  and  imputes  them  to  himself,  would  be 
stung  with  remorse  for  his  folly,  though  he  had  no  account 
to  make  to  a  superior  Being.     His  reason  convinces  him 
that  he  has  sinned  against  himself:  in  his  self-condemna- 
tion, he  feels  that  he  has  brought  upon  his  own  head  the 
punishment  which  his  folly  deserved. 

Corol.  From  this  we  may  see  that  this  rational  principle  of  a  re- 
gard to  our  own  good  upon  the  whole,  gives  us  the  conception  oi 
a  right  and  a  ivrong  in  human  conduct,  at  least  of  a  -wise  and  a/oo/ 
;«ft,  it  produces  a  kind  of  self-approbation,  when  the  passions  and 


CHAP.  xn.  Of  Moral  Perception.  ioS 

appetites  are  kept  in  their  clue  subjection  to  this  rational  principle 
of  a  regard  to  our  own  good  upon  the  whole ;  and  a  kind  of  re- 
morse and  compunction  when  it  yields  to  them. 

Obs.  In  these  respects  this  principle  is  so  similar  to  the  moral 
principle,  or  conscience,  and  so  interwoven  with  it,  that  to  make  the 
distinction  apparent,  we  shall  make  conscience  the  subject  of  the 
next  section. 

III.  Analysis  of  Conscience,  or  the  Moral  Principle. 

337.  CONSCIENCE,  or  the  faculty  of  distinguishing  right 
conduct  from  wrong,  like  all  our  other  faculties,  comes  to 
maturity  by  degrees ;  or  is  tutored   by  the  experience  we 
have  of  our  own  conduct,  and  by  the  examples  of  good  and 
ill,  which  are  furnished  us  by  others. 

lllus.  The  seeds  of  moral  discernment  are,  if  I  may  use  a  figure, 
planted  in  our  mind  by  him  that  made  us.  They  grow  up  in  their 
proper  season ;  they  are  at  first  tender  and  delicate,  and  easily 
warped  ;  hence  their  progress  depends  very  much  upon  their  be- 
ing duly  cultivated  and  properly  exercised.  All  the  arguments  ap- 
plied to  prove  the  cultivation  of  our  other  faculties,  attention,  ab- 
straction, memory,  association,  judgment,  and  reasoning,  bear  with 
united  force  in  proof  of  the  fact,  that  moral  discernment,  or  con- 
•deuce,  is  susceptible  of  a  high  degree  of  improvement. 

Corol.  Since,  then,  the  natural  power  of  discerning  between 
right  and  wrong,  needs  the  aid  of  instruction,  education,  exercise, 
and  habit,  as  well  as  our  other  natural  powers ;  and,  by  these 
means  of  improvement,  may  be  informed  of  its  duty,  of  the  good 
its  subject  ought  to  pursue,  and  the  evils  that  he  ought  to  shun  ; — 
that  man  must  indeed  be  a  stranger  to  his  own  heart,  and  to  the 
state  of  human  nature,  who  does  not  see  that  he  has  need  of  all 
the  aid  which  his  situation  affords  him,  in  order  to  know  how  he 
ought  to  act  in  any  given  case  in  which  accident  or  circumstances 
inay  place  him. 

338.  Conscience  is  peculiar  to  man  ;  and  is  one  of  those 
prerogatives  by  which  he  is  raised  above  brute  animals,  in 
which  not  a  vestige  of  Moral  Perception  can  be  traced. 

Corol.  1.  Man  alone  of  the  animals  that  inhabit  this  earth  is  a 
moral  agent.  The  dog  that  runs  away  with  a  piece  of  meat  is  not 
so  ;  therefore,  this  action  is  no  crime  in  the  dog,  though,  by  an 
abuse  of  language,  we  say  of  that  quadruped,  .that  "lie  is  a  great 
thief.35  Brute  animals  are  neither  immoral  nor  virtuous,  and  when 
we  say  of  a  horse  that  "  he  is  vicious,"  our  meaning  is,  that  he  has 
such  qualities,  or  has  acquired,  by  ill  treatment  or  otherwise,  such 
habits  as  lead  to  such  actions. 

2.  These  things,  and  others,  which  the  ingenuity  of  the  reader 
can  easily  supply,  shew  that  there  is  just  reason  why  we  should 
consider  the  brute  creation  destitute  of  the  noblest  faculties  with 
which  God  hath  endowed  man,  and  particularly  of  that  faculty 
which  makes  us  moral  and  accountable  beings. 

14*    " 


154  £  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOO 

339.  Conscience  is  evidently  intended  by  nature  to  be 
the  immediate  guide  and  director  of  our  conduct,  after  we 
arrive  at  the  years  of  understanding. 

Ittw.  1.  The  bones,  muscles,  arteries,  blood,  and  variously  conir 
plicated  parts  of  our  frame,  shew  intuitively  the  end  for  which  they 
were  made,  and  put  tog-ether  with  such  exquisite  skill  and  nicety 
of  adaptation  and  action. 

2.  That  we  may  discern  those  qualities  of  bodies  which  may  be 
useful  or  hurtful  to  us,  we  are  endowed  with  five  senses,  the  media 
of  all  sensation.  That  we  may  retain  the  knowledge  which  we  have 
acquired,  we  have  the  faculty  of  memory  given  us.     That  we  may 
distinguish  what  is  true  from  what  is  false,  we  have  the  faculties  of 
judgment  and  reasoning,  as  original  powers  of  the  mind. 

3.  The  appetites  and  pasaions  of  our  nature  all  point  out  their 
end ;  else  what  are  the  natural  appetites  of  hunger  and  thirst,  the 
natural  affections  of  parents  to  their  offspring-,  and  of  relations  to 
each  other,  the  natural  docility  and  credulity  of  children,  the  affec- 
tions  of  pity  and  sympathy  with  the  distressed,  the  attachment  we 
feel  to  neighbours,  to  acquaintance,  and  the  esteem  and  love  we 
feel  towards  individuals  ? — What  are  our  obedience  to  the  laws  and 
the  constitution  of  Britain  ?   What  are  these,  I  ask,  but  parts  of  our 
constitution,  which  plainly  point  out  their  end  ?  And  he  must  be 
intellectually  blind,  or  a  wretched  knave,  who  will  not  allow,  who 
does  not  perceive,  that  the  intention  for  which  both  the  intellectual 
and  the  active  powers  were  given  him,  is  written  in  legible  and 
in  golden  characters  upon  the  face  of  each  of  them. 

340.  Nor  is  this  the  case  with  any  of  them  more  evident- 
ly than  with  Conscience,  the  intention  of  which  is  mani- 
festly implied  in  its  office — to  shew  us  what  is  good,  what 
bad,  and  what  indifferent,  in  human  conduct. 

Illus.  1.  "He  hath  shewed  thee,  O  man  !  what  is  good,"  saitli 
the  Prophet  Micah.  Conscience  judges  of  every  action  before  it  is 
done  ;  for  we  can  rarely  act  so  precipitately,  but  we  have  the  con- 
sciousness that  what  we  are  about  to  do  is  right,  or  wrong,  or  indif- 
ferent. Like  the  bodily  eye,  it  naturally  looks  forward,  though  its 
attention  may  occasionally  be  turned  back  to  the  past. 

2.  Conscience,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  make  the  assertion, 
plvr.'.g-esinto  the  future,  when  it  prescribes  measures  to  every  appe- 
tite, affection,  and  passion  ; — and  says  of  every  other  principle  of 
action,  "  Hitherto  thou  shalt  go,  but  no  farther."     Whoever  yet 
transgressed  its  dictates  with  innocence,  and  even  with  impunity  ? 
At  any  rate  I  am  not  that  man  ;  and,  with  my  peccability,  I  have 
no  ambition  to  be  stripped  of  this  sacred  monitor.     It  is  an  honest, 
an  amiable  counsel,  whose  opinions  are  without  expense  and  with- 
out delay. 

3.  Probably,  some  of  our  other  principles  of  action  have  more 
.strength  ;  but  none  of  them  can  boast  its  authority.     Set  any  other 

principle  in  opposition  to  it  we  please,  its  sentence  makes  us  guilty 
to  ourselves,  and  guilty  in  the  eyes  of  our  Maker. 

Corel.  1 .  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  this  principle  has,  from  its 


CHAP.  xii.  Of  Moral  Perception.  155 

nature,  an  authority  to  direct  and  determine,  with  regard  to  our 
conduct — to  judge,  to  acquit,  or  to  condemn,  and  even  to  punish—an 
authority  that  belongs  to  no  other  principle  of  the  human  mind. 
Other  principles  may  urge,  this  only  authorizes.  Other  principles 
ought  to  be  controlled  by  this  ;  this  may  be,  but  never  ought  to 
be,  controlled  by  any  other,  and  never  can  be  with  innocence  to 
our  bosoms. 

2.  The  authority  of  conscience  over  the  other  principles  of  the 
mind  is  self-evident ;  for  it  implies  no  more  than  this — That  in  all 
cases  a  man  ought  to  do  his  duty.  He  only,  who  does  in  all  cases 
what  he  ought  to  do,  is  the  perfect  man. 

Obs.  To  this  all-powerful  principle,  then,  rather  than  to  any 
other,  did  Nelson  appeal  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  when  that 
noble  sentiment  ran  through  his  fleet — 

k<  EXGLAND  EXPECTS  THAT    EVERY  MAT*   THIS  DAY  WILL    I)O  IMS  DUTY." 

,">41.  The  Moral  Faculty,  or  Conscience,  is  both  an  ac- 
tive and  an  intellectual  power  of  the  mind.  It  is  an  active 
power,  as  every  truly  virtuous  action  must  be  more  or  less 
influenced  by  it;  and  it  is  an  intellectual  power,  because 
by  it  solely  we  have  the  original  conceptions,  or  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  in  human  conduct. 

lllus.  1.  Of  its  being  tin  active  power.  Other  principles  may  con- 
cur with  it,  and  lead  the  same  way;  but  no  action  can  be  called  mo- 
rally good,  in  which  regard  to  what  is  right  has  not  some  influence. 

Example  1.  There  is  no  virtue,  but  there  is  justice  in  paying  just 
debts.  When  the  moral  principle  wages  war  and  overcomes  the 
animal  principles,  there  is  certainly  some  activity  shewn.  In  some 
cases,  a  regard  to  what  is  right  may  be  the  sole  motive,  without 
the  concurrence  or  opposition  of  any  other  principle  of  action  :  as 
when  a  judge,  or  an  arbiter,  determines  a  plea  between  two  indif- 
ferent persons,  solely  from  a  regard  to  justice. 

CoroL  1.  Thus  we  see,  that  conscience,  as  an  active  principle, 
somtimes  concurs  with  other  principles,  sometimes  opposes  them, 
nnd  is  sometimes  the  sole  principle  of  action. 

Illus.  2.  Of  its  being  an  intellectual  power.  By  conscience,  solely 
as  an  intellectual  power,  we  have  the  original  conceptions,  or  ideas, 
of  right  and  wrong  in  human  conduct ;  and  of  right  and  wrong 
there  are  not  only  many  different  degrees,  but  many  different  spe- 
cies. Justice  and  injustice,  benevolence  and  malice,  prudence  and 
folly,  magnanimity  and  meanness,  decency  and  indecency,  are  vari- 
ous moral  forms,  all  comprehended  under  the  general  notion  of 
right  and  wrong  in  conduct, — all  of  them  objects  of  moral  appro- 
bation, or  disapprobation,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree. 

Again,  the  conception  of  these,  as  moral  qualities,  we  have  by 
our  moral  faculty  ,•  and  by  the  same  faculty,  when  we  compare  them 
together,  we  perceive  various  relations  among  them. 

Example  2.  Thus  we  perceive,  that  justice  is  entitled  to  a  small 
degree  of  praise,  but  injustice  to  a  high  degree  of  blame ;  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  gratitude  and  its  contrary.  When  justice  and 
gratitude  interfere,  gratitude  must  give  place  to  justice,  and  un- 
merited beneficence  to  both. 


156  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  11, 

Carol.  2.  As  this  faculty,  therefore,  furnishes  the  human  mind 
with  many  of  its  original  conceptions,  or  ideas,  as  well  as  with  the 
first  principles  of  many  important  branches  of  human  knowledge,  it 
may  justly  be  accounted  an  intellectual  as  well  as  an  active power  of 
the  mind. 

IV.  Analysis  of  Duty,  Rectitude,  and  Moral  Obligation. 

342.  The  subject  of  law  must  have  the  conception  of  a 
general  rule  of  conduct,  and  a  sufficient  inducement  to 
obey  the  law,  even  when  his  strongest  animal  desires  draw 
him  the  contrary  way. 

Ilhts.  Without  some  degree  of  reason  he  cannot  have  this,  con- 
ception. Man  is  endowed  with  some  degree  of  reason.  We  shall 
thence  pronounce  him  the  subject  of  law,  having  the  conception  of 
a  general  rule  of  conduct.  The  subject  of  law  must  likewise  have 
a  sufficient  inducement  to  obey  the  law,  even  when  his  strongest 
animal  desires  draw  him  the  contrary  way.  The  possession  of  good 
is  a  sufficient  inducement  to  obey  the  law.  Man,  of  all  the  animals 
of  creation,  desires  the  possession  of  good.  Wer^hall  therefore 
consider  man  as  having  a  sufficient  inducement  to  obey  the  law, 
even  when  his  strongest  animal  desires  draw  him  the  contrary  way. 

343.  This  inducement  may  be  a  sense  of  interest,  or  a 
sense  of  duty,  or  both  concurring. 

Obs.  These  are  the  only  two  principles,  which,  in  Dr.  Reid's  o- 
pinjon,  can  reasonably  induce  a  man  to  regulate  all  his  actions  ac- 
cording to  a  general  rule  or  law. 

Carol.  They  may,  therefore,  be  justly  called  the  rational  princi- 
ples of  action,  since  they  can  have  no  place  but  in  a  being  endow- 
ed with  reason,  and  since  it  is  by  them  only  that  man  is  capable  ei- 
ther of  political  or  of  moral  government. 

344.  Our  notion,  or  conception  of  duty,  is  too  simple  to 
admit  a  logical  definition ;     and  when  we  say,  that,  it  is 
what  we  ought  to  do — what  is  fair  and  honest — what  is 
approvuble — tvhat  every  man  prof  esses  to  be  the  rule  of  his 
conduct — what  all  men  praise — and  what  is  in  itself  lauda- 
ble, though  no  man  should  praise  it, — we  define  it  only  by 
synonymous  words,  or  phrases,  or  by  its  properties  and  ne- 
cessary concomitants. 

345.  The  notion  of  duty  cannot  be  resolved  into  that  of 
interest,  or  what  is  most  for  our  happiness. 

Him.  1.  Every  man  may  be  satisfied  of  this,  who  attends  to  his 
own  conceptions,  and  the  language  of  mankind  shows  it; — for, 
when  I  say,  "this  is  my  interest,"  I  mean  one  tiling;  and  when  I 
say,  "  this  is  my  duty,"  I  mean  another  thing.  And  though  the 
same  course  of  action,  when  rightly  understood,  maybe  both  my 
duty  and  my  interest,  the  conceptions  I  have  of  each  are  very  dif- 
ferent. Both  are  reasonable  motives  to  action,  but  quite  distinct 
in  their  nature. 


.  Of  Moral  Perception-  i5<T 

'2.  In  every  man  of  real  worth  there  is  a  principle  of  honour,  a 
xl  to  what  is  honourable,  or  dishonourable,  very  distinct  from 
a  regard  to  his  interest.  It  is  folly  in  any  man  to  disregard  his  in- 
terest, but  to  do  what  is  dishonourable  is  baseness.  The  first  may 
move  our  pity,  or,  in  some  cases,  our  contempt ;  but  the  last  pro- 
vokes our  indignation. 

('oral.  1  two  principles  are  different  in  their  nature, 

and  not  resolvable  into  one,  so  the  principle  of  honour  is  evidently 
^uperior  in  dignity  to  that  of  intt 

J.  No  man  would  allow  him  to  be  a  man  of  honour,  who  should 
plead  his  interest  to  justify  what  he  acknowledged  to  be  dishon- 
ourable ;  but  to  sacrifice  interest  to  honour  n<  a  blush. 

;>46.  This  principle  is  not  to  be  re.-o!ved  into  a  regard  to 

our  reputation  amonu;  mm,  else  the  man   of  honour  would 

not  i  •  br  Irn-ted  in  the  dark,      lie  would  have  no 

MOII  to  Lie  at,   to  play  the  coward,  when  he  had 

no  dread  of  I  d. 

Coral.  Every  man  of  honour,  Tin T« Tore,  feds   an  abhorrence  of 
•  in  actions^  ^ec  --s  base,   and  feels  an 

obligation  to  certain  nth-  in  tlu-nis 

what  honour  requires,  and  this,  independently  of  any  consideration 
of  interest  or  reputation. 

,347.  Thi>  is  an  immediate  moral  obligation;  and  this 
principle  of  honour,  which  is  acknowledged  by  all  men  who 
pretend  to  character,  is  only  another  name  fur  \\hat  we  call 
a  regard  to  duty,  to  rectitude,  to  propriety  of  conduct.  It 
is  a  moral  obligation,  whit  -  a  man  to  do  certain 

things  because  they  an*  right,  and  not  to  do  other  thin'j> 
because  they  are  wrong. 

Corol.  There  is,  therefore,  a  principle  in  man,  call  it  by  what 
name  you  please,  whicn,  v  hen  he  acts  according  to  it,  gives  him  a 
consciousness  of  worth,  and  when  he  acts  contrary  to  it,  a  sense  of 
demerit.  Men  of  rank  call  it  honour  ,•  the  vulgar  hind  calls  it  hon- 
esty, probity,  virtue,  conscience; — philosophers  have  given  it  the 
name  of  the  moral  sense,  the  moral  faculty,  rectitude. 

348.  The  universality  of  this  principle — the  words  that 
express  it — the  names  of  the  virtues  which  it  commands, 
and  of  the  vices  which  it  forbids — the  ought  and  ought  not, 
which  express  its  dictates — make  it  evidently  an  essential 
part  of  language. 

Ilhis.  1.  The  natural  affections — of  respect  to  worthy  people — of 
.  resentment   of  injuries — of  gratitude   for  fav  ours — of  indignation 
nst  the  worthless — are  parts  of  the  human  constitution  which 
suppose  a  right  and  a  wrong  in  conduct. 

2.   Many  transactions  that  are  found  in  the  rudest  societies 
upon  the  same  supposition.     In  all  testimony — in  all  promises — in 
ontracts — there  is  necessarily  implied  a  moral  obligation  on  on-- 
party, and  a  trust  in  the  other,  grounded  vpon  this  obligation. 


158  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  n, 

349.  The  leading  principle  of  all  our  active  powers  is 
Reason,  and  it  comprehends  both  a  regard  to  what  is  right 
and  honourable,  and  a  regard  to  our  happiness  upon  the 
whole.      All   the  principles   of  action — whether   they  be 
notions  of  auty,  rectitude,  or  moral  obligation — when  right- 
ly understood,  lead  to  the  same  course  of  life;  they  are 
fouii tains  whose  streams  unite  arid  run  in  the  same  channel. 

Obs.  When  we  say  a  man  ought  to  do  such  a  thing,  the  ought, 
which  expresses  the  moral  obligation,  has  a  respect,  on  the  one 
hand,  to  the  person  who  ought,  and,  on  the  other,  to  the  action 
which  he  ought  to  do.  Those  two  correlates  are  essential  to  every 
moral  obligation ;  take  away  either,  and  the  obligation  ceases  to 
exist. 

350.  The  circumstances,  both  in  the  action  and  in  the 
agent,  necessary  to  constitute  a  moral  obligation,  are  these : — 

I.  With  regard  to  the  action,  it  must  be  a  voluntary 
action,   or  pnestation    of  the  person  obliged,  and   not  of 
another. 

II.  The  opinion  of  the  agent  in  doing  the  action  gives  it 
its  moral  obligation. 

Obs.  With  respect  to  the  person  obliged ;  to  things  only  which 
come  within  the  sphere  of  his  natural  power  can  he  be  under  a 
moral  obligation.  As  respects  the  agent,  if  he  does  a  materially 
good  action,  without  any  belief  of  its  being  good,  but  from  some 
other  principle,  it  is  no  good  action  in  him.  And  if  he  does  it  with 
the  belief  of  its  being  ill,  it  is  ill  in  him. 

CoroL  These  qualifications  of  the  action,  and  of  the  agent,  in 
moral  obligation,  are  super-evident ;  and  the  agreement  of  all  men 
in  them,  shews  that  all  men  have  the  same  notion,  and  a  distinct 
notion,  of  moral  obligation. 

V.  Analysis  of  the  Sense  of  Duly. 

351.  We  are  next  to  consider,  how  we  learn  to  judge 
and  determine  that  this  is  right,  and  that  is  wrong. 

Obs.  The  abstract  notion  of  moral  good  and  ill  would  be  of  no 
use  to  direct  our  life,  if  we  had  not  the  power  of  applying  it  to  par- 
ticular actions,  and  determining  what  is  morally  good,  and  what  is 
morally  ill. 

352.  By  the  external  senses  we  have  not  only  the  origin- 
al conceptions  of  the  various  qualities  of  bodies,  but  the  ori- 
ginal judgments  that  this  body  has  such  a  quality,  that  such 
another  ;  so  by  our  moral  faculty,  we  have  both  the  original 
conceptions  of  right  and  wrong,  of  merit  and  demerit,  in 
ourselves  and  others;  and  also  the  original  judgments  that 
this  conduct  is  right,  that  is  wrong ;  that  this  character  has 
worth,  that  dement 


C'UAP.  xii.  Of  Moral  Perception.  159 

Illus.  1.  The  testimony  of  our  moral  faculty,  like  that  of  the  ex- 
ternal senses,  is  the  testimony  of  nature,  and  we  have  the  same  rea- 
son to  rely  -ipon  it. 

2.  The  truths  immediately  testified  by  the  external  senses,  are 
the  first  principles  from  wh.ch  we  reason,  with  regard  to  the  mate- 
rial world, -and  from  which  uU'our  knowledge  of  it  is  deduced. 

3.  The  truths  immediately  testified  by  our  moral  faculty,  are  the 
first  principles  of  all  moral  reasoning,  from  which  all  our  knowledge 
of  our  duty  must  be  deduced. 

353.  Moral  reasoning  is  all  reasoning  that  is  brought  to 
prove  that  such  conduct  is  right  and  deserving  of  moral  ap- 
probation, or  that  it  is  wrong,  or  that  it  is  indifferent,  and, 
in  itself,  neither  morally  good  nor  ill. 

CoroL  1.  All  that  we  can  properly  call  m  oraljudgme nts,  are  redu- 
cible to  one  or  other  of  these,  because  all  human  actions,  consider- 
ed in  a  moral  point  of  view,  are  either  good,  or  bad,  or  indifferent, 

2.  Let  it  be  understood,  therefore,  that  in  the  reasoning  which 
we  call  moral,  the  conclusion  always  is — That  something  in  the  con- 
duct of  moral  agents  is  good  or  bad,  in  a  greater  or  a  less  degree, 
or  indifferent. 

354.  All  moral  reasonings  rest  upon  one  or  more  first 
principles  of  morals,  whose  truth  is  immediately  perceived, 
without  reasoning,  by  all  men  come  to  years  of  understand- 
ing. 

I  this.  This  is  common  to  every  branch  of  human  knowledge  that 
deserves  the  name  of  science ;  and  these  first  principles  are  the 
dictates  of  our  natural  faculties. 

Example  1.  In  astronomy  and  in  optics,  the  first  principles  are 
phenomena  attested  by  the  human  eye  ;  and  with  him  who  disbe- 
lieves the  testimony  of  that  little  organ,  the  whole  of  those  two  no- 
ble fabricks  of  science  falls  to  pieces  like  the  visions  of  the  night. 

2.  The  principles  of  mime  all  depend  upon  the  testimony  of  the 
ear.     Those  of  natural  philosophy,  upon  the  facts  attested  by  the 
senses.     Those   of  mathematics,    upon   the   necessary  relations   of 
quantities  considered  abstractedly.     (Art.  44.  Illus.}     The  science 
of  politics  borrows  its  principles  from  what  we  know  by  experience 
of  the  character  and  conduct  of  man.     The  first  principles  of  mo- 
rals, are  the  immediate  dictates  of  the  moral  faculty . 

3.  He  that  will  judge  of  the  colour  of  an  object,  must  consult  his 
eyes  in  a  good  light,  when  there  is  no  medium,   or  contiguous  ob- 
ject, that  may  give   it  a  false  tipge.     In  like  manner,  he  that  will 
judge  of  the  first  principles  of  morals,  must  consult  his  conscience, 
or  moral  faculty.     When  he  is  calm  and  dispassionate,  unbiassed  by 
"interest,  affection,  or  fashion. 

CoroL  The  sum  of  the  reasonings  that  we  have  made,  or  that  we 
might  make,  on  this  analysis  of  the  sense  of  duty,  is — that,  by  an  ori- 
ginal power  of  the  mind,  which  we  call  conscience,  or  the  moral 
faculty,  we  have  the  conception  of  right  and  wrong  in  human  con- 
duct, of  merit  and  demerit,  of  duty  and  moral  obligation,  and  our 
other  moral  conceptions ,  and  that,  by  the  same  faculty,  we  per- 


160  rf  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ir* 

ceive  some  things  in  human  conduct  to  be  right,  and  others  to  be 
wrong1 ;  that  the  first  principles  of  morals  are  the  dictates  of  this 
faculty  ;  and  that  we  have  the  same  reason  to  rely  upon  those  dic- 
tates, as  upon  the  determinations  of  our  senses,  or  of  our  other 
natural  faculties. 

VI.  Of  Moral  Approbation  and  Disapprobation. 
355.  The  judgments  we  form  in  speculative  matters  are 
dry  and   unaffecting; — our  moral  judgments,   from  their 
nature,  are  necessarily  accompanied  with  AFFECTIONS  and 
FEELINGS,  which  we  are  now  to  consider. 

Ittus.  We  approve  of  good  actions  and  disapprove  of  bad  ones  ; 
and  this  approbation  and  disapprobation,  when  we  anatyse  it,  ap- 
pears to  include  not  only  a  moral  judgment  of  the  action,  but  some 
affection,  favourable  or  unfavourable,  towards  the  agent,  and  some 
feeling  in  ourselves. 

556.  Moral  worth,  even  in  a  stranger,  with  whom  we 
have  not  the  least  connexion,  never  fails  to  produce  some 
degree  of  esteem  mixed  with  good -will.  The  esteem  which 
we  have  for  a  man  on  account  of  his  moral  worth,  is  differ- 
ent from  that  which  is  grounded  upon  his  intellectual  ac- 
complishments, his  birth,  fortune,  and  connexion  with  us. 

Jllus.  Moral  worth,  when  it  is  set  off  by  eminent  abilities,  and 
external  advantages,  is  like  a  diamond  in  the  mine,  which  is  rough 
and  unpolished,  and  perhaps  crusted  over  with  some  other  baser  mate- 
rial that  takes  away  its  lustre.  But,  when  it  is  attended  with  these 
advantages,  it  is  like  a  diamond  cut  and  polished,  and  set  round 
with  pearls  in  a  massy  crown.  Its  lustre  then  attracts  every  eye  ; 
and  yet  these  things,  which  add  so  much  to  its  appearance,  add 
but  little  to  its  real  valae. 

Carol.  There  is  no  judgment  of  the  heart  more  clear,  or  more  ir- 
resistible than  this — That  esteem  and  regard  are  really  due  to  good 
conduct,  and  the  contrary  to  base  and  unworthy  conduct.  Nor  can 
we  conceive  a  greater  depravity  in  the  heart  of  man,  than  it  would 
be  to  see  and  acknowledge  worth  without  feeling  any  respect  to 
it ;  or  to  see  and  acknowledge  the  highest  worthlessness  without 
any  degree  of  dislike  and  indignation. 

357.  The  obj ect  of  moral  approbation  is,  then,  either  some 
disposition  of  the  mind,  or  some  external  action. 

Ittus.  Probity  is  the  most  approved  disposition ;  and  the  external 
expressions  of  probity  the  most  approved  actions.  These  consti- 
tute the  whole,  or  the  most  essential  pail  of  virtue.  Other  sub- 
jects may  be  admired  or  contemned,  but  these  alone  are  the  sub- 
jects of  moral  approbation,  of  esteem  and  love. 

358.  PARTIALITY,  which  makes  us  blind  to  the  faults  of 
our  friends,  and  the  merits  of  those  to  whom,  from  prejudice 
or  passion,  wre  are  ill  affected,  is  the  foundation  of  our  wrong 


CHAP.  xn.  Of  Moral  Perception,  161* 

judgment  with  regard  to  the  character  of  others,  and  of  sell 
deceit  with  regard  to  our  own. 

3.59.  Moral  approbation  or  disapprobation^  is  accompa- 
nied with  agreeable  or  uneasy  feelings  in  the  breast  of  the 
spectator  or  judge. 

Jllus.  The  benevolent  affections  give  pleasure,  the  malevolent 
desires  give  pain,  in  one  degree  or  another.  And  when  we  con- 
template a  noble  character,  though  but  in  ancient  story,  or  even  in 
a  novel,  a  comedy,  or  a  tragedy ;  like  a  beautiful  object,  it  gives  a 
lively  and  pleasant  emotion  to  the  spirits — it  warms  the  heart,  and 
invigorates  the  frame — like  the  beams  of  a  meridian  sun,  it  enlivens 
the  face  of  nature,  and  diffuses  heat,  light,  and  joy,  all  around. 

Example.  We  feel  a  s>  mpathy  with  the  noble  Caractactis,  and 
are  afflicted  in  his  distress  ;  and  Alfred  the.  Great  compels  us  to  re- 
joice in  his  prosperity;  we  even  catch  some  sparks  of  that  celes- 
tial fire  that  animated  the  conduct  of  the  latter  :  and  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  accompany  the  former  to  Rome,  without  feeling  the  glow  of 
his  virtue  and  magnanimity. 

Corol.  This  sympathy  is  the  necessary  effect  of  our  judgment  of 
the  conduct  of  those  men,  and  of  our  approbation  and  esteem  due 
to  that  conduct;  for  real  sympathy  is  always  the  effect  of  some  be- 
nevolent affection,  such  as  esteem,  love,  pity,  or  humanity. 

360.  Sympathy  gathers  strength  from  the  social  tie,  and 
bids  us  claim  some  property  in  the  worth  of  a  father,  or  a 
mother,  a  brother,  or  a  sister,  a  relation,  or  au  acquaintance, 
and  chiefly  so  in  that  friend  whom  we  value  above  all  her 
.  But  the  highest  pleasure  of  our  soul  is,  when  we  are 
•.  onsrious  of  good  conduct  in  ourselves. 

Obs.  On  the  other  hand,  the  view  of  a  vicious  character,  espc- 
-ialh  if  that  character  be  connected  with  us,  like  that  of  an  ugly  and 
deformed  object,  is  disagreeable,  and  our  sympathy  is  very  painful 
indeed ;  for  we  blush  for  those  faults,  by  which  we  feel  ourselves 
dishonoured. 

Corol.  If  bad  conduct  in  those  in  whom  we  are  interested,  be 
uneasy  and  painful,  it  is  much  more  so  when  we  are  conscious  of  it 
in  ourselves.  This  uneasy  feeling  lias  a  name  in  all  languages ;  we 
call  it  remorse.  In  repentance,  contrition,  and  remorse,  self-reproach, 
and  even  indignation,  are  largely  intermixed  with  the  affection  of 
sorrow. 

Note.  We  shall  here  close  our  division  of  "  The  Intellectual  Pow- 
ers," recommending  to  the  more  advanced  reader,  the  study  of 
Reid  and  Stewart's  writings  on  the  same  subject:  what  we  have 
3aid  is  sufficient  in  an  elementary  treatise. 


SUBJECTS  OF  COLLATERAL  INQUIRY,   WITH 
THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  PRIMARY  AND    SECONDARY  QUALITIES  Ol 
BODIES. 

361.  WE  have  observed  in  Chapter  II.  of  Book  II.  that 
sensation  is  generally  conjoined  with  perception:  but  these 
terms  denote  two  separate  and  distinct  acts  of  the  mind ; 
and  we  have  no  appropriate  name  to  designate  the  conjunc- 
tion of  sensation  with  perception.  Both  are  generally  con- 
founded together  under  one  term,  which  comes  to  be  more 
strictly  appropriated  either  to  the  sensation  or  the  percep- 
tion, according  as  the  one  or  the  other  more  strongly  occu- 
pies the  attention  of  the  mind. 

Ilhts.  1.  If  it  be  asked,  What  I  mean  by  the  smell  of  arose  ?  it  is 
evident  that,  in  the  general  acceptation  of  the  phrase,  this  denotes 
a  sensation  of  the  mind ;  as  appears  from  the  epithets  fragrant, 
agreeable,  &c.  which  are  applicable  to  it,  and  which  have  meaning 
when  referred  to  a  sentient  being*.  (JLrt.  105.  Illus.  1,  2,  and  3.) 
Along,  however,  with  this  sensation  of  an  agreeable  odour,  there  is 
conjoined  a  perception,  by  which  we  form  a  certain  notion  of  that 
quality  in  the  rose,  which  is  the  cause  of  its  odour;  but  this  per- 
ception is  totally  distinct  from  the  sensation,  ("Art.  42.  and  108.)  ; 
for  the  perception  cannot  be  said  to  be  agreeable  or  otherwise,  and 
it  has  an  external  object,  the  existence  of  which  depends  not  upon 
the  act  of  the  mind,  as  doth  the  sensation,  (See  Art.  106.  and 
Illus.  *%rt.  110.)  Yet  we  have  no  name  by  which  to  distinguish  the 
object  of  this  perception,  unless  it  be  that  which  more  properly 
belongs  to  the  accompanying  sensation,  to  wit,  the  smell  of  the  rose  ; 
a  defect  of  language,  which  is  no  doubt  the  source  of  much  ambi- 
guity. 

2.  Again,  if  it  be  asked,  What  is  the  effect  produced  by  applying 
the  hand  upon  any  solid  and  compact  substance  ?  it  will  be  answer- 


r.  i.       Of  the  Secondary  Qualities  of  Bodies.  1 63 

«d,  that,  "We  feel  the  body  to  be  hard.  And,  in  like  manner,  when 
the  parts  of  a  body  are  easily  displaced,  or  its  figure  changed  by 
applying  the  hand  to  it,  we  call  it  soft :  we  feel  it  soft.  These  are 
the  notions  which  all  mankind  have  of  hardness  and  softness.  They 
ire  neither  sensations,  nor  like  any  sensation;  they  were  real 
qualities  before  they  were  perceived  by  touch,  and  continue  to  be 
so  when  they  are  not  perceived;  for  if  any  man  will  affirm,  that 
diamonds  were  not  hard  till  they  were  handled,  who  would  reason 
with  him  ? 

3.  The  sensation  of  hardness  may  be   easily  had,  by  pressing 
one's  hand  against  the  table,  and  attending  to  the  feeling  that  en- 
sues, setting  aside,  as  much  as  possible,  all  thought  of  the  table  and 
its  qualities,   or  of  any  external  thing.     But  it  is  one  thing  to  have 
the  sensation,  and  another *o  ^tend  to  it,  and  make  it  a  distinct 
object  of  reflection.     The  first  is  easy  ;  the  last,  in  most  cases,  ex- 
tremely difficult. 

4.  The  sensation  of  touch,  and  the  hardness  of  bodies,  have  not 
xhe  least  similitude  ;  yet  the  hardness  of  bodies  is  a  tiling'  that  we 
conceive  as  distinctly,  and  believe  as  firmly,  as  any  thing  in  nature ; 
and   no    rules  of  reasoning  are  required  to  convince  me  of  the 
consciousness  I  have  of  this  sensation  when  I  press  my  hand  against 
the  table.     I  see  nothing  left,  but  to  conclude,  that,  by  an  original 
principle  in  my  constitution,  a  certain  sensation  of  touch  both  sug- 
gests to  the  mind  the  conception  of  hardness,  and  creates  the  belief 
of  it:  or,  iii  other  words,  that  this  sensation  is  the  natural  sign  of 
hardness; 

362.  This  sensation  may  be  increased  in   strength  at, 
pleasure,  merely  by  increasing  the  pressure  of  the  liand  ; 
and  it  may  be  increased  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  be  very  dis- 
agreeable.    It  then  arrests  the  attention  forcibly  enough, 
and  we  give  it  the  name  of  Pain,  which  is,  however,  no  ap- 
propriate term,  but  the  common  appellation  of  all  sensations 
that  are  disagreeable.     If  I  hit  my  toe  against  a  stone  with 
violence,  the  sensation  I  experience  is  the  same  in  kind,  but 
different  in  degree,  with  what  I  feel  when  I  gently  press 
the  table  with  my  hand. 

363.  We  have,  now  shewn,  that  language  affords,  in  ge- 
neral,  but  a  single  term  whereby  to  distinguish  both  the 
sensation  and  its  accompanying  perception ;  and  that  this 
term  is  chiefly  appropriated  either  to  the  sensation  or  the 
perception,  according  as  the  attention  is  most  engrossed  by 
the  one  or  the  other.     Upon  this  circumstance,  appears  to 
be  founded  a  distinction  of  the  qualities  of  body  into  two 
kinds,  called  primary  and  secondary. 

Him.  The  reality  of  the  distinction  appears  to  be  placed  in  this, 
that  the  primary  qualities  are  those  of  which  we  have  a  distinct  per- 
ception, and  but  a  slight  sensation :  while,  of  the  secondary,  our 
perception  is  but  obscure,  and  we  have  a  strong  sensation,  which 


164  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in, 

chiefly  arrests  our  attention.  Hence,  the  names  of  the  primary 
qualities  of  body,  more  usually  refer  to  the  perception  by  which 
they  are  made  known  to  us;  while  those  of  the  secondary  qualities 
have  more  properly  a  reference  to  the  accompanying*  sensation. 

364.  The  three  senses  of  taste,  smell,  and  hearing,  appear 
to  give  us  information  of  the  secondary  qualities  of  body 
alone ;  the  other  two  senses  of  sight  and  touch,  inform  us 
both  of  primary  and  secondary  qualities.     Heat  and  cold 
are  secondary  qualities*  discernible  by  touch  ;  and  colour  is 
a  secondary  quality,  discernible  by  sight. 

Him.  The  disposition  of  bodies  to  reflect  a  particular  kind  of 
light,  or  the  fitness  of  certain  particles^pf  external  bodies  to  reflect 
some  only  of  the  rays  of  light,  oq§asicns  the  sensation  of  colour; 
and,  in  this  acceptation,  ft  really  exists  in  the  sentient  being-, 
although  early  prejudice  induces  us  to  refer  it  to  the  external  body 
alone  ;  and  the  term  is  usually  applied  only  to  the  external  cause  of 
the  sensation,  and  not  to  the  sensation  itself  which  is  not  the  case 
with  the  other  secondary  qualities.  All  the  primary  qualities  of 
body  may  be  discovered  by  the  sense  of  touch  alone  ;  and  it  is  this 
sense,  as  diffused  over  our  whole  corporeal  frame,  which  imparts 
the  most  accurate  notions  concerning'  those  qualities.  For  the 
notions  of  cxtention  and  figure,  as  conveyed  by  the  eye,  require 
the  correction  of  the  touch  ;  and  even  motion,  which  might  be 
supposed  to  be  the  peculiar  province  of  sight,  can  only  certainly 
be  ascertained  by  the  touch,  because  the  eye  often  judges  motion 
to  be  real,  when  it  is  bat  apparent ;  as  when,  sailing  along  the 
Shore  in  a  vessel,  we  fancy  the  land  moves. 

365.  There  appears,  upon  the  whole,  to  be  a  real  distinc- 
tion between  the  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  body  ; 
our  senses  give  us  a  direct  and  distinct  notion  of  extension., 
divisibility,  figure,  motion,  solidity,  hardness,  softness,  and 
fluidity,  which  are  all  primary  qualities  ;  but  of  the  second- 
ary qualities,  -sound,  colour,  taste,  smell,  and  heat  or  cold, 
our  senses  give  us  only  a  relative  and  obscure  notion. 

Obs.  A  relative  notion  of  a  thing,  is,  strictly  speaking,  no  notion 
of  the  thing  at  all,  but  only  of  some  relation  which  it  bears  to  some- 
thing else.  Thus,  of  the  word  gravity,  I  can  have  a  distinct  and 
accurate  notion,  when  it  signifies  the  tendency  of  bodies  towards 
the  earth  ;  but  when  it  signifies  the  cause  of  that  tendency,  I  have 
no  conception  of  what  the  thing  is,  though  I  may  think  of  it  as  an 
unknown  cause  of  a  known  effect.  This  is  a  lelative  notion  ;  and 
there  are  many  objects  of  thought  and  discourse,  of  which  out 
faculties  can  give  no  better  than  a  relative  notion 


:  i\i\  ii.       Of  Natural  Language  and  Signs.  163 

CHAPTER  II. 

OF  NATURAL  LANGUAGE  AND  SIGNS, 

366.  IN  lllus.  4.  Art.  561.  sensations  were  called  NA- 
TURAL  SIGXS.     Mankind   reciprocally   communicate   their 
thoughts  and  intentions,  their  purposes  and  desires,  by  lan- 
sniajje  or  signs. 

c5        O  O 

lllus.  These  signs  are  of  two  kinds :  first,  such  as  have  no  mea- 
ning-, but  what  is  affixed  to  them  by  compact  or  agreement  among 
those  who  use  them  ;  these  are  artificial  signs.  2dly.  Such  as,  pre- 
vious to  all  compact  and  agreement,  have  a  meaning  which  every 
man  understands  by  the  principles  of  his  nature. 

Corol.  Language,  therefore,  so  far  as  it  consists  of  artificial  signs, 
may  be  called  artificial,-  so  far  as  it  consists  of  natural  signs,  we 
call  it  natural. 

367.  If  mankind  had  not  had  a  natural  language,  they 
could  never  have  invented  an  artificial  one  by  their  reason 
and  ingenuity.     For  all  artificial  language  supposes  some 
compacts  or  agreements  before  the  use  of  artificial  signs  ; 
but  there  can  be  no  compact  or  agreement  without  signs, 
nor  without  language  ;  and,  therefore,  there  must  be  a  na- 
tural language,  before  an  artificial  language  can  be  invented. 

368.  The  elements  of  the  natural  language  of  mankind, 
or  the  signs  that  are  naturally  expressive  of  our  thoughts, 
consist  in  modulations  of  the  voice,  gestures,  and  features. 

lllus.  By  means  of  these,  two  savages,  who  have  no  common  arti- 
ficial language,  can  converse  together;  can  communicate  their 
thoughts  in  some  tolerable  manner;  can  ask  and  refuse,  affirm  and 
deny,  threaten  and  supplicate ;  can  traffic,  enter  into  covenants, 
and  plight  their  faith !  Historical  facts  of  undoubted  credit  are  the 
bases  of  this  illustration. 

369.  Mankind  having  thus,  by  nature,  a  common  lan- 
guage, though  a  scanty  one,  adapted  only  to  the  necessities 
of  nature,  their  ingenuity  improved  it  by  the  addition  of  ar- 
tificial signs,  to  supply  the  deficiency  of  the  natural. 

lllus.  These  artificial  signs  multiply  with  the  arts  of  life,  and  the 
improvements  of  knowledge.  The  articulations  of  the  voice,  seem 
to  be,  of  all  signs,  the  most  proper  for  artificial  language ;  and  as 
mankind  have  universally  used  them  for  that  purpose,  we  may  rea- 
sonably judge  that  nature  intended  them  for  it.  But  nature  does 
not  intend  that  we  should  lay  aside  the  use  of  the  natural  signs  :  it 
is  enough  that  we  supply  their  defects  by  artificial  ones.  Dumb 
people  retain  much  more  of  the  natural  language  than  others,  be- 


166  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in. 

cause  necessity  obliges  them  to  use  it.     And,  for  the  same  reason, 
savages  have  much  more  of  it  than  civilized  nations. 

370.  It  is  by  natural  signs  chiefly,  that  we  give  force  and 
energy  to  language ;  and  the  less  language  has  of  them,  it  is 
the  less  expressive  and  persuasive. 

IRus.  Thus,  writing  is  less  expressive  than  reading,  and  reading 
less  expressive  than  speaking  without  book.  Speaking  without 
the  proper  and  natural  modulations,  force,  and  variations  of  the 
voice,  is  a  frigid  and  dead  language,  compared  with  that  which  is 
attended  with  them  :  it  is  still  more  expressive,  when  we  add  the 
language  of  the  eyes  and  features;  and  is  then  only  in  its  perfect 
and  natural  state,  and  attended  with  its  proper  energy,  when  to  all 
Hiese  we  superadd  the  force  of  action. 

371.  Where  speech  is  natural,  it  will  be  an  exercise,  not 
of  the  voice  and  lungs  only,  but  of  all  the  muscles  of  the  bo- 
dy ;  like  that  of  dumb  people  and  savages,  whose  language, 
as  it  has  more  of  nature,  is  more  expressive,  and  is  more 
easily  learned. 

372.  Artificial  signs  signify,  they  do  not  express;  they 
speak  to  the  understanding,  as  algebraical  characters  may 
do,  but  the  passions,  the  affections,  and  tlie  will,  hear  them 
not;  these  continue  dormant  and  inactive,  till  we  speak  to 
them  in  the  language  of  nature,  to  which  they  are  all  atten- 
tion and  obedience. 

Corol.  As  men,  therefore,  are  led  by  nature  and  necessity  to  con- 
verse together,  they  will  use  every  means  in  their  power  to  make 
themselves  understood ;  and  where  they  cannot  do  this  by  artifi- 
cial signs,  they  will  do  it,  as  far  us  possible,  by  natural  ones ;  and 
lie  that  understands  perfectly  the  vise  of  natural  signs,  must  be  the 
best  judge  in  all  the  expressive  urts,  such  us  music,  painting",  acting, 
and  public  speaking. 

373.  As  in  artificial  signs  there  is  often  neither  simili- 
tude between  the  sign  and  thing  signified,  nor  any  connex- 
ion that  arises  necessarily  from  the  nature  of  the  things;  so 
it  is  also  in  the  natural  signs. 

lllus.  1.  The  word  $-oW  has  no  similitude  to  the  substance  signi- 
fied by  it ;  nor  is  it  in  its  own  nature  more  fit  to  signify  this,  than 
any  other  substance  :  yet,  by  habit  and  custom,  it  suggests  this, 
and  no  other. 

2.  In  like  manner,  a  sensation  of  touch  suggests  hardness,  al- 
though it  hath  neither  similitude  to  hardness,  nor,  as  far  as  we 
cun  perceive,  any  necessary  connexion  with  it.  {Art.  361.)  The 
difference  between  these  two  signs,  lies  only  in  this;  that,  in  the 
first,  the  suggestion  is  the  effect  of  habit  and  custom ;  in  the  second, 
it  is  not  the  effect  of  habit,  but  of  the  original  constitution  of  our 
minds.  (Art.  365.) 

374.  There  are  different  orders  of  natural  signs,  and  dif- 


CHAP.  ii.      Of  Natural  Language  and  Sigj  lor 

ferent  classes  into  which  they  may  be  distinguished,  whence 
we  may  more  distinctly  conceive  the  relation  between  our 
.itions  and  the  things  they  su^e^t,  and  what  we  mean 
by  calling  sensations  .-Lrn>  of  external  things,  (.tf/7.  366, 
Corel.) 

Illujt.  I.  The  first  class  of  natural  signs  comprehends  those  whose 
u-xion  with   the   thing1  signified,    is   established  by  nature,   but 
discovered  only   by  experience.     The   u^e   of  genuine  philosophy 
:*ts  in  discovering  such  connexions,   and  reducing  them  * 

\Vbat  we  commonly  call   natural  --ight,   wit  to- 

mere  propriety,    be   called  nit*1  .     and  what  we  call  fjffects, 

*hc    things  si*H(fie:l.      According-  to   this  illustration,    we  should  no 
long'  popular  definitions  of  r<///.sv\,  which  are  of  l\\o  kinds  ; 

l-.t.   The  efficient  cautet  which  is  the  rnergv  or  power  producing'  an 
,    which    is   the   end   or  purpose   fur 
wh:  ;ed. 

N  Fnat  the  connexion 

the  sign  and  the  tiling  signified,  i>  not  onlv  established  by 
nature,   but  discovered  to  us  by  a  natural  principle,  without  reason- 
ing or  experience.     Of  this  kind  are    the   natural    signs  of  human 
thoughts,  purposes,  and  desires,  which  have  been  ahvadv  mention 
natural    languugv  of  mankind.      Thus,   an    infant  may  In- 
put  into   a  flight   by  an   angry  countenance,    and  soothed  a  pun  by 
Mniles   and    blandishments.      And   a  child   that  has   a  good  musical 
may  be-  put  to  sleep  or  to  dance,   and  may   be-  made  merry  or 

Minds.      The   principles  of 

^11  the  fine  arts,  and  of  what  we  call  a  fine  tuxfe,  may  be  resolved 
into  .nid. 

3.     A  tli  ,   comprehends    those   which, 

tho'i  ;\   nouon  or  i-onception  of  the  thing 

3t  it,   or  conjure  it  up,   as    it  were,   by  a  natural 

ire  us  a  conception  an.  I  belief 

<'i'  it.     Th  'g'g'tst  to  us  a  sentient  being1  or  mind 

to  which  they  belong;  but  the  conception  of  mind  is  neither  an  idea 
of  sensation  nor  of  reflection  ;  for  it  is  neither  like  any  of  our  sen- 
sations, nor  like  any  thing  of  which  we  are  conscious.  The  first 
conception  of  it,  as  well  as  the  belief  of  it,  and  the  common  relation 
which  it  bears  to  all  that  we  are  conscious  of,  or  remember,  is  sug- 
gested to  every  thinking  being,  we  do  not  know  bow.  The.  notion 
of  hardness  in  bodies,  as  well  as  the  belief  of  it,  arc  got  in  a  similar 
.lanner;  being,  by  an  original  principle  of  our  nature,  annexed  to 
that  sensation  which  we  have  when  we  feel  a  hard  body.  (*lrt.  373. 
Jllus.  2.) 

Carol.  1.  As  the  first  class  of  natural  signs  is  the  foundation  of 
true  philosophy,  and  the  second,  the  foundation  of  the  fine  arts,  or 
ef  taste  ;  so  the  last  is  the  foundation  of  common  sense. 

2.  And  by  all  rules   of  just  reasoning-,  we  must  conclude, 
since  sensations  are  invariably  connected  with  the  conceptio' 
belief  of  external   existences,   this  connexion  is  the  H; 
constitution,  and  ought  to  be  considered  as  an  <;]•'•  g-.^a!  prin  t 

human  nature,  till  we,  find  some  more  general  principle  i 
it  nviv  be  resolved, 


i.b8  £  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in- 

CHAPTER  III. 

OF  MATTER  AND  SPACE. 

375.  OF  MATTER.   We  give  the  names  of  matter,  materi- 
al, substance,  body,  to  the  subject  of  sensible  qualities  or 
properties. 

Illus.  I  perceive  in  a  billiard  ball,  figure,  colour,  and  motion  ;  but 
the  ball  is  not  figure,  nor  is  it  colour,  nor  motion,  nor  all  these  taken 
together  ;  it  is  something1  that  has  fig-ore,  and  colour,  and  motion. 
(Illus.  Art.  182.)  This  is  a  dictate  of  nature,  and  the  belief  of  all 
mankind.  The  essence  of  body  is  unknown  to  us  :  but  we  have 
the  information  of  nature  for  the  existence  of  those  properties  in 
matter  which  our  senses  discover. 

376.  The  belief  that  figure,  motion,  and  colour,  are  quali- 
ties, and  require  a  subject,  must  either  be  a  judgment  of 
nature,  or  it  must  be  discovered  by  reason,  or  it  must  be  a 
prejudice  that  has  no  just  foundation. 

Carol.  1.  But  extension  must  be  in  something  extended,  motion 
in  something  moved,  colour  in  something1  coloured  ;  and  in  the 
structure  of  all  languages,  \ve  find  adjective  nouns  used  to  express 
sensible  qualities  ;  but  it  is  well  known  that  every  adjective  in  lan- 
guage must  belong  to  some  substantive  expressed  or  understood : 
that  is,  every  quality  must  belong  to  some  subject :  therefore,  our 
opinion,  or  belief,  that  the  tilings  immediately  perceived  by  our 
senses,  are  qualities  which  must  belong  to  a  subject,  is  an  imme- 
diate judgment  of  nature,  not  discoverable  by  reason,  nor  instilled 
as  a  prejudice  that  has  no  just  foundation  ;  and  all  the  information 
our  senses  give  us  about  this  subject,  is,  that  it  is  that  to  which  such 
qualities  belong. 

2.  From  this  it  is  evident,  that  our  notion  of  body  or  matter,  as 
distinguished  from  its  qualities,  is  a  relative  notion.  (Art.  365.  O6s.) 

Obs.  The  relation  which  sensible  qualities  bear  to  their  subject, 
that  is,  to  body,  may  be  distinguished  from  all  other  relations.  Thus, 
you  can  distinguish  it  from  the  relation  of  an  effect  to  its  cause, 
(vfftf.  14.)  ;  of  a  means  to  its  end,  (Art.  337.  Corol.)  ;  or  of  a  sign  to 
the  thing  signified,  (Art.  374.) 

377.  Some  of  the  determinations,  however,   which  we 
form  concerning  matter,  cannot  be  deduced  solely  from  the 
testimony  of  sense,  but  must  be  referred  to  some  other  source. 

Illus.  There  seems  to  be  nothing  more  evident,  than  that  bodies 
must  consist  of  pails,  and  that  every  part  of  a  body  is  a  body,  and  a 
distinct  something  which  may  exist  without  the  other  parts  ;  and  yet 
I  apprehend  this  conclusion  is  not  deducible  solely  from  the  testi- 
mony of  sense.  For,  besides  that  it  is  a  necessary  truth,  and  there- 
fore no  object  of  sense,  there  is  a  limit  beyond  which  we  cannot 


CHAP.  in.  Of  Matter  and  Space.  16;9 

perceive  any  division  of  a  body.  The  parts  become  too  small  to  be 
perceived  by  our  senses;  but  we  cannot  believe  that  it  becomes 
then  incapable  of  being1  further  divided,  or  that  such  division  would 
make  it  not  to  be  a  body. 

378.  We  carry  on  the  division  and  subdivision  in  our 
thoughts,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  our  senses,  and  we  can 
find  no  limit  to  it ;  nay,  we  plainly  discern  that  there  can 
be  no  limit  beyond  which  the  division  cannot  be  carried. 

Illus.  For,  if  there  be  any  limit  to  this  division,  one  of  two  things 
must  necessarily  happen ;  either  we  shall  come  by  division  to  a  body 
which  is  extended,  but  has  no  parts,  and  is  absolutely  indivisible ;  or 
this  body  is  divisible,  but  as  soon  as  it  is  divided,  it  becomes  no  body. 

Doth  of  these  positions  seem  to  me  absurd,  and  one  or  the  other 
is  the  necessary  consequence  of  supposing1  a  limit  to  the  divisibility 
of  matter. 

379.  On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  admitted,  that  the  divisi- 
bility of  matter  has  no  limit,  it  will  follow,  that  no  body  can 
be  called  an  individual  substance;  you  may  as  well  call  it 
two,  or  twenty,  or  two  hundred. 

Corol.  For  where  it  is  divided  into  parts,  every  part  is  a  body  or 
substance,  distinct  from  all  the  other  parts,  and  was  so  even  before 
the  division.  Any  one  part,  therefore,  may  continue  to  exist,  though 
all  the  other  parts  were  annihilated. 

380.  There  are  other  determinations  concerning  matter, 
which,  we  apprehend,  are  not  solely  founded  upon  the  tes- 
timony of  sen 

Illus.  These  determinations  are,  that  it  is  impossible  that  two 
bodies  should  occupy  the  same  place  at  the  same  time ;  that  the 
same  body  should  be  in  different  places  at  the  same  time  ;  that  a 
body  can  be  moved  from  one  place  to  another,  without  passing1 
thoug-h  the  intermediate  places  either  in  a  straight  course,  or  by 
some  circuit. 

Corol.  These  appear  to  be  necessary  truths,  and  therefore  can- 
not be  conclusions  of  our  senses  ;  for  our  senses  testify  only  what 
is,  not  what  must  necessarily  be. 

381.  OF  SPACE.     Though  space  be  not  perceived  by  any 
of  our  senses,  when  all  matter  is  removed ;  yet,  when  we 
perceive  any  of  the  primary  qualities,  space  presents  itself 
as  a  necessary  concomitant;  For  there  ^an  neither  be  exten 
sion,  nor  motion,  nor  figure,  nor  divisibility,  nor  cohesion 
of  parts,  without  space. 

385.  There  are  only  two  of  our  senses,  touch  and  sight, 
by  which  the  notion  of  space  enters  into  the  mind. 

Illu-s.  A  man  without  either  of  these  senses  can  have  no  concep- 
tion of  space.     And  supposing*  him  to  have  both,  until  he  sees  or 
other  objects,  he  can  have  no  notion  of  space  :  for  it  has  n?i 


irO  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in. 

ther  colour  nor  figure  to  make  it  an  object  of  sight ;  and  it  is  no 
tangible  quality,  to  make  it  an  object  of  touch.  But  other  objects 
of  sight  and  touch  carry  the  notion  of  space  along  with  them,  and 
not  the  notion  only,  but  the  belief  of  it ;  for  a  body  could  not  exist, 
if  there  was  no  space  to  contain  it ;  nor  could  it  move,  if  there  was 
no  space  ;  and  its  situation,  its  distance,  and  every  relation  which  it 
has  to  other  bodies,  supposes  space. 

383.  But  though  the  notion  of  space  seems  not  to  enter 
at  first  into  the  mind,  until  it  is  introduced  by  the  proper 
objects  of  sense;  jet  being  once  introduced,  it  remains  in 
our  conception  and  belief,  though  the  objects  which  introdu- 
ced it  be  removed. 

Ilhis.  We  see  no  absurdity  in  supposing  a  body  to  be  annihilated, 
but  the  space  that  contained  it  remains;  and  to  suppose  that  annihi- 
lated, seems  to  be  absurd.  It  is  so  much  allied  to  nothing,  or  empti- 
?ies8,  that  it  seems  incapable  of  annihilation  or  of  creation. 

384.  Space  not  only  retains  a  firm  hold  of  our  belief,  even 
when  we  suppose  all  the  objects  that  introduced  it  to  be 
annihilated,  but  it  swells  to  immensity.     We  can  set  no 
limits,  either  of  extent  or  duration,  to  its  profundity  and 
immutability. 

Carol.  Hence  we  call  it  immense,  eternal,  immoveable,  and  inde- 
structible. But  it  is  only  an  immense,  eternal,  iramoveable,  and 
indestructible  void  or  emptiness. 

Obs.  The  student  will  here  observe,  that  this  language,  though 
popular,  is  sufficiently  definite,  as  is  also  our  reference  to  the  aeri- 
form elastic  Jmid,  that  fills  all  space. 

385.  When  we  consider  parts  of  space  that  have  measure 
and  figure,  there  is  nothing  we  understand  better,  nothing 
about  which  we  can  reason  so  clearly  and  to  so  great  an 
extent. 

Him.  Extension  and  figure -are  circumscribed  parts  of  space,  and 
are  the  objects  of  Geometry,  a  science  in  which  human  reason  has 
the  most  ample  field,  and  can  go  deeper,  and  with  more  certainty, 
than  in  any  other.  But  when  we  attempt  to  comprehend  the  whole 
cf  space,  and  to  trace  it  to  its  origin,  we  lose  ourselves  in  the  search. 

386.  The  philosophers  tell  us,  that  our  sight,  unaided  by 
touch,  gives  a  very  partial  notion  of  space,  but  yet  a  distinct 
one.     This   partial   notion   they    call   visible   space.     The 
sense  of  touch,  say  they  too,  gives  a  much  more  complete 
notion  of  space ;  and  when  it  is  considered  according  to  this 
notion,  they  call  it  tangible  space. 

Obs.  Visible  figure,  extension,  and  space,  may  be  made  the  sub- 
jects of  mathematical  speculation,  as  well  as  the  tangible.  In  the 
visible,  we  find  two  dimensions  only ;  in  the  tangible,  three  /  in  the 
one,  magnitude  is  measured  by  angles  ?  in  the  other,  by  lines, 


CHAP.  iv.     Of  Duration,  Extension,  and  Number.          171 

CoroL  Every  part  of  visible  space  bears  some  proportion  to  the 
whole;  but  tangible  space  being-  immense,  any  part  of  it  bears  no 
proportion  to  the  whole.  fSee  D)\  Reid's  Essays  on  the  Powers  of 
the  Mind,  Essay  II.  Chap.  XIX. } 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  DURATION,  EXTENSION,  AND  NUMBElt. 

387.  Ix  the  Illustration  of  Article  £44,  it  was  shewn  that 
Memory  implies  a  conception  and  belief  tf  past  DURATION  ; 
for  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  remember  any  thing  dis- 
tinctly, without  believing  some  interval  of  Duration,  more 
or  less,  to  have  passed  between  the  time  that  it  happened, 
and  the  present  moment ;  and,  if  we  had  no  Memory,  we 
t:ould  acquire  no  notion  of  Duration. 

388.  Duration,  extension,  and  number,  are  the  measures 
of  all  things  subject  to  mensuration.     When  we  apply  them 
to  finite  things,  which  are  measured  by  them,  they  seem  of 
all  things  to  be  the  most  distinctly  conceived,  and  most 
within  the  reach  of  the  human  understanding. 

Illus.  1.  Extension  having1  three  dimensions,  has  an  endless  vane- 
ty  of  modifications,  capable  of  being-  accurately  defined;  and  their 
various  relations  furnish  the  human  mind  with  its  most  ample  field 
of  demonstrative  reasoning-. 

2.  Duration,  having-  only  one  dimension,  has  fewer  modifications ; 
but   these    are    clearly  understood ;    and  their  relations  admit  of 
measure,  proportion,  and  demonstrative  reasoning-. 

3.  Number  is  called  decrete  quantity,  because  it  is  compounded  of 
units,  which  are  all  equal  and  similar,  and  it  can  only  be  divided 
into  units. 

4.  Duration  and  extension  are  not  decrete,  but  continued  quantity, 
They  consist  of  parts  perfectly  similar,  but  divisible  without  end. 
(See  Art.  ^.Illus.  1.) 

389.  In  order  to  assist  our  conception  of  the  magnitude 
and  proportions  of  the  various  intervals  of  Duration,  we  find 
it  necessary  to  give  a  name  to  some  known  portion  of  it, 
such  as  sm*hour,  a  day,  a  year. 

Illus.  These  intervals  we  consider  as  units ;  and,  by  the  number 
of  them  continued  in  a  larger  interval,  we  form  a  distinct  concep- 
tion of  its  magnitude.  A  similar  expedient  we  find  necessary,  to 
give  us  a  distinct  conception  of  the  magnitudes  and  proportions  of 
tilings  extended.  Thus,  number  is  found  necessary  as  a  common 
measure  of  extension  and  duration. 


172  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in* 

390.  Some  parts  of  Duration  have,  to  other  parts  of  it,  the 
relations  of  prior  and  posterior;  and  to  the  present,  they 
have  the  relations  of  past  and  future. 

filus.  1.  The  notion  of  past  is  immediately  suggested  by  Memory, 
as  has  been  shewn  above,  (Art.  387.)  ;  and  when  we  have  appre- 
hended the  notions  of  present  and  past,  and  of  prior  and  posterior, 
%ve  can,  from  these,  frame  a  notion  of  the  future ;  for  the  future  is 
that  which  is  posterior  to  the  present.  Hence,  we  say  of  the  past, 
former,  that  is,  prior  time  ;  and  as  we  cannot  give  the  name  of  poste- 
rior to  the  present,  we  must  assign  that  term  to  t\\e  future.  (See 
Art.  237.  Him.  2.  and  Example  1.) 

2,  Nearness  and  distance  are  relations  equally  applicable  to  time 
and  place.  But  distance  in  time,  and  distance  in  place,  are  things 
so  different  in  their  nature,  and  so  like  in  their  relation,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  determine,  whether  the  name  of  distance  is  applied  to 
both  in  the  same  sense,  or  in  an  analogical  sense.  (See  Illus.  3.  and 
Corol.  Art.  237.) 

391.  The  Extension  of  bodies,  which  we  perceive  by  our 
senses,  leads  us  necessarily  to  the  conception  and  belief  of 
a  space,  which  remains  immoveable  when  the  body  is  remov- 
ed.    And  the  Duration  of  events  which  we  remember,  leads 
us  necessarily  1o  the  conception  and  belief  of  a  Duration, 
which  would  have  gone  on  uniformly,  though  the  event  had 
never  happened.     (See  Art.  243.  Illus.] 

Obs.  Thus,  this  present  month  of  November  (1818)  would  have 
'passed  away,  though  no  remarkable  event  had  happened  in  it ;  but 
the  death  of  the  QUEEN  will  make  it  to  be  long  remembered. 

392.  Without  space,  there  can  be  nothing  that  is  extend- 
ed; and  without  time,  there  can  be  nothing  that  hath  Dura- 
tion.    This  is  undeniable ;  and  yet  we  find  that  Extension 

-  and  Duration  are  not  more  clear  and  intelligible,  than  space 
and  time  are  dark  and  difficult  objects  of  contemplation. 

Corol.  As  there  must  be  space  wherever  any  thing  extended  does 
exist  or  can  exist ;  and  ti?ne,  when  there  is  or  can  be  any  thing  that 
has  Duration  ;  we  can  set  no  bounds  to  either,  even  in  our  Imagina- 
tion. They  bid  stern  defiance  to  all  limitation.  Pursue  them  in 
conception,  you  plunge  with  the  one  into  immensity,  and  with  the 
other,  into  eternity ! 

393.  An  eternity  past,  is  an  object  which  we  cannot  com- 
prehend ;  but,  a  beginning  of  time,  unless  we  take  it  in  a 
figurative  sense,  is  a  contradiction. 

Llus.  By  a  common  figure  of  speech,  we  give  the  name  of  time 
to  those  motions  and  revolutions,  by  which  we  measure  it ;  such 
as,  days  and  years,  (Art.  389.)  We  can  conceive  a  beginning  of 
these  sensible  measures  of  time,  and  say  that  there  -was  a  time  when 
they  -were  not — a  time  undistinguished  by  any  motion  or  change  j 
but  to  say  that  there  was  a  time  before  all  time,  is  a  contradiction, 


.v.  Of  Identity.  i7c* 

594.  All  limited  Duration  is  comprehended  in  Time,  and 
all  limited  Extension,  in  Space.  These,  in  their  capacious 
womb,  contain  all  finite  existences,  but  are  contained  by 
none. 

Illus.  Created  thing's  have  their  particular  places  in  space,  and 
*heir  particular  places  in  time  /  but  time  is  every  where,  and  space 
at  all  times  ,•  therefore  you  and  I,  and  all  of  u.s,  who,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Trim,  **  are  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,"  have  our 
particular,  places  in  space,  and  our  particular  places  in  time.  Time 
and  space  embrace  each  the  otlK.r,  and  have  that  mysterious  un»- 
5oii  which  the  schoolmen  conceived  lu-tween  soul  and  body — the 
of  each  is  in  every  part  of  the  other. 


CHAPTER  A , 

OF  IDENTITY, 

$95.  I.v  treating  of  Memory,  one  of  our  positions  rims 
thus  :  "The  remembrance  of  a  past  erenl,  is  necessarily  ac- 
^ounuuiied   with  the  conception  of  our  own  EXISTENCE  at 
time  the  event  happened/'     (*<irt.  £45.) 

Obs.  The  conviction  which  each  of  us  has  of  his  own  Identity,  as 
>:ick  as  his  im-niory  reaches,  needs  no  aid  of  philosophy  to  give 
it  strength  ;  nor  can  it  be  weakened   by  any   philosophy,  without 
first  producing-  some  degree  of  insanity. 

396.  This  conviction  is  indispensably  necessary  to  all 
exercise  of  reason.     The  operations  of  reason,  whether  in 
action  or  in  speculation,  are  made  up  of  successive  part?. 
The  antecedent  operations  are  the  foundation  of  the  conse- 
quent, (Art.  132.  Illus.  and  Art.  133.);  and  without  the 
conviction  that  the  antecedent  have,  been  seen  or  done  by 
me,  I  could  have  no  reason  to  proceed  to  the  consequent,  in 
any  speculation,  or  in  any  active  project  whatever. 

Obs.  That  we  may  form  as  distinct  a  notion  as  we  are  able  of  this 
phenomenon  of  the  human  mind,  it  is  proper  to  consider,  first, 
What  is  meant  by  Identity  in  general ;  Secondly,  What  by  our  own 
personal  Identity;  and  how  we  are  led  to  that  invincible  be- 
lief and  conviction,  which  every  man  has  of  his  own  personal  Iden 
tity,  to  any  period  in  which  his  memory  is  present, 

I.  What  is  meant  by  Identity  in  general. 

397.  Dr.  Reid  takes  Identity  in  general,  to  be  a  relation 
between  a  thing  which  is  known  to  exist  at  one  time,  and  a 

16 


174  Jl  Grammar  of  .Logic.  &oo&.  m* 

thing  winch  is  known  to  have  existed  at  another.  If  you 
ask,  "  Whether  they  are  one  and  the  same,  or  two  different 
things,"  every  man  of  common  sense  understands  perfectly 
the  meaning  of  your  question. 

Carol.  Whence  we  may  infer  with  certainty,  that  every  man  of 
common  sense  has  a  clear  and  distinct  notion  of  Identity.  (See 
,2r*.  o.) 

Obs.  The  term  Identity,  conveys  a  notion  .too  simple  for  a  logical 
definition.  It  conveys  an  idea  of  relation,  which  none  confound 
with  other  relations. 

398.  Identity  supposes  an  uninterrupted  continuance  ol 
existence.     (See  Jlrt.  62.  I  Urn.  1.  and  2.) 

Jllus.  That  which  hath  ceased  to  exist,  cannot  be  the  same  with 
that  which  afterwards  begins  to  exist ;  for  this  would  be  to  suppose 
a  being"  to  exist  after  it  had  ceased  to  exist,  and  to  have  had  exis- 
tence before  it  was  produced,  which  are  manifest  contradictions. 
Continued  and  Uninterrupted  existence  is,  therefore,  necessarily 
implied  in  Identity.  * 

CoroL  Hence  we  may  infer,  that  Identity  cannot,  in  its  proper 
sense,  be  applied  to  our  pains,  our  pleasures,  our  thoughts,  or  any 
operations  of  our  minds.  The  head-ach  I  feel  this  day,  is  not  the 
same  individual  head-ach  which  I  felt  yesterday  ;  though,  as  far 
us  I  can  judge,  they  are  similar  in  kind  and  intensity  of  pain,  and 
probably  have  the  same  cause.  The  same  may  be  said  of  every 
feeling',  and  of  every  operation  of  mind  :  they  are  all  successive  in 
their  nature,  like  time  itself,  no  two  moments  of  which  can  be  the 
same  moment.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  parts  of  space ;  they  al- 
ways are,  they  always  were,  and  they  always  will  be  the  same. 

Note.  The  ground  does  not  appear  any  further  clear,  in  fixing 
the  notion  of  Identity  in  general. 

II.  Of  personal  Identity. 

399.  It  is  perhaps  more  difficult  to  fix  with  precision  the 
meaning  of  personality  $  but  it  is  not  necessary  in  the  pres- 
ent subject.     It  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose  to  observe,  that 
all  mankind  place  their  personality  in  something  that  can- 
not be  divided,  or  that  cannot  consist  of  parts.     A  part  of 
you  or  of  me,  is  a  manifest  absurdity. 

Ellis.  When  a  man  loses  his  estate,  his  health,  his  strength,  he  is 
st;ll  the  same  person,  and  has  lost  nothing-  of  his  personality.  The 
Marquis  of  Ang'lesea  lost  a  leg  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  but  he  is 
the  same  person  he  was  before.  A  person  is  something  indivisi- 
ble, and  is  what  LEIBNITZ  calls  a  monad. 

400.  Any  personal  identity,  therefore,  implies  the  contin- 
ued existence  of  that  indivisible  thing,  which  I  call  myself. 
(Jlrt.  52.; 

Illus.  Whatever  this  self  may  be,  it  is  something  which  thinks, 
arid  deliberates,  and  resolves,  and  acts,  and  suffers.  I  am  not 


.  v.  Of  Identity.  175 

thought,  nor  action,  nor  feeling- ;  yet  am  I  something1  that  thinks., 
and  acts,  and  suffers.  My  thoughts,  and  actions,  and  feeling's, 
change  every  moment ;  they  have  no  continued,  but  a  successive 
existence  ;  but  that  self,  or  /,  to  which  they  belong,  am  perma^ 
nent,  and  have  the  same  relation  to  all  the  succeeding  thoughts, 
actions,  and  feelings,  which  I  call  mine. 

401.  Such  are  the  notions  that  I  have  of  my  personal 
Identity.     But  perhaps  it  may  be  said,   this  is  all  fancy, 
without  reality ;  and  the  sceptic  may  demand,  How  do  you 
know,  what  evidence  have  you,  that  there  is  such  a  perma- 
nent self,  which  has  a  claim  to  all  the  thoughts,  actions,  and 
feelings,  which  you  call  yours? 

Illus.  To  this  I  answer,  that  the  proper  evidence  which  I  have 
of  all  this,  is  remembrance.  (See  Art.  246.  and  its  illustrations.)  I 
remember,  that  in  the  year  1814,  I  published  "A  Treatise  on  the 
Construction  of  Maps."  I  remember  several  things  that  happened 
while  that  work  was  printing ;  and  among  these,  that  my  friend, 
Peter  Nicholson,  very  obligingly  read  over  the  proof  sheets  of  that 
work  for  me.  My  memory  testifies,  not  only  that  the  book  in  ques- 
tion was  printed,  but  that  it  was  printed  from  a  manuscript,  which 
I,  who  now  remember,  wrote  or  compiled.  Supposing  that  no 
copy  of  this  work  were  now  extant ;  still,  if  it  was  done  by  me,  I 
must  have  existed  at  that  time,  and  continued  to  exist,  in  one  place 
or  another,  from  that  time  to  the  present.  If  the  identical  person, 
whom  I  call  myself,  did  not  write  that  book,  my  memory  is  falla- 
cious ;  it  gives  a  distinct  and  positive  testimony  of  what  is  not  true. 
But  every  man  in  his  senses  believes  what  he  distinctly  remembers ; 
and  every  thing  he  remembers,  convinces  him,  that  he  existed  at 
the  time  remembered. 

402.  When  we  pass  judgment  on  the  Identity  of  other 
persons,  besides  ourselves,  we  proceed  upon  other  grounds, 
and  determine  from  a  variety  of  circumstances,  which  some- 
times produce  the  firmest  assurance,  and  sometimes  leave 
room  for  doubt. 

Obs.  The  Identity  of  persons  has  often  furnished  matter  of  serious 
litigation,  before  tribunals  of  justice. 

Illus.  The  Identity  of  a  person  is  a  perfect  identity  ;  wherever  it 
is  real,  it  admits  of  no  degrees;  and  it  is  impossible  that  a  person 
should  be  in  part  the  same,  and  in  part  different ;  because  a  person 
is  a  monad,  and  is  not  divisible  into  parts.  The  evidence  of  Identity 
in  other  persons  besides  ourselves,  does  indeed  admit  of  all  degrees, 
from  what  we  account  certainty,  to  the  least  degree  of  probability. 
But  still  it  is  true,  that  the  same  person  is  perfectly  the  same,  and 
cannot  be  so  in  part,  or  in  some  degree  only.  The  honest  Hiber- 
nian who  accosted  a  stranger  in  London,  saying,  "  I  thought  it  was 
you,  but  I  see  now  it  is  your  brother ;"  though  the  author  of  a  sad 
bull,  affords  a  happy  illustration  of  the  judgment  we  pass  on  other 
persons  besides  ourselves. 

403.  Our  judgments  of  the  Identity  of  objects  of  sense, 


176  JL  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in* 

seem  to  be  formed,  much  upon  the  same  grounds,  as  our 
judgments  of  the  Identity  of  other  persons  besides  the  self- 
identity  which  we  have  of  ourselves. 

Illus.  1.  Wherever  there  is  great  similarity,  we  are  apt  to  pre- 
sume Identity,  if  no  reason  appears  to  the  contrary:  when  two 
objects,  ever  so  like,  are  perceived  at  the  same  time,  they  cannot 
be  the  same.  But  if  they  are  presented  to  our  senses  at  different 
times,  we  are  apt  to  think  them  the  same,  merely  from  their  simi- 
larity. 

2.  Whether  this  is  a  natural  prejudice,  or  from  what  cause  soever 
5t  proceeds,  it  certainly  appears  in  children  from  infancy  ;  and  when 
tluj  grow  up,  it  is  confirmed,  in  most  instances,  by  experience  \  for,., 
of  the  same  species,  men  rarely  find  two  individuals  that  are  not  dis- 
tinguishable by  obvious  differences. 

Example.  A  man  challenges  a  thief  whom  he  finds  in  possession 
of  his  horse  or  his  watch,  only  on  similarity.  When  the  watch-maker 
swears,  that  he  sold  this  watch  to  such  a  person,  his  testimony  is 
grounded  on  similarity.  The  testimony  of  witnesses  to  the  identity 
of  a  person,  is  commonly  grounded  on  no  better  evidence, 

Corol.  Thus  it  appears,  that  the  evidence  we  have  of  our  own 
Identity,  as  far  back  as  we  remember,  is  totally  of  a  different  kind 
from  the  evidence 'we  have  of  the  Identity  of  other  persons,  or  of 
objects  of  sense.  The  first  is  grounded  on  memory,  and  gives  un- 
doubted certainty :  the  last  is  grounded  on  similarity,  and  on  other 
circumstances,  which,  in  many  cases,  are  not  so  decisive  as  to  leave, 
no  room  for  doubt. 

404.  The  Identity  of  objects  of  sense  is  never  perfect,  be- 
cause, as  they  consist  of  parts,  which,  from  a  variety  of 
causes,  are  subject  to  continual  changes,  the  substances  of 
which  they  are  made  up,  are  insensibly  changing,  increasing, 
or  diminishing. 

Illus.  Thus  we  say  of  an  old  regiment,  the  42d,  for  example,  that 
it  scaled  the  heights  of  Abraham  at  Quebec,  though  there  now  is  not 
a  man  alive  that  belonged  to  it  then.  Also,  a  ship  of  war,  which  has 
successively  changed  her  anchors,  her  tackle,  her  sails,  her  masts, 
her  planks,  and  her  timbers ;  while  she  keeps  the  same  name,  is 
still  the  same. 

Corol.  1.  The  Identity,  therefore,  which  we  ascribe  to  bodies, 
whether  natural  or  artificial,  is  not  perfect  Identity ;  it  is  rather 
something,  which,  for  the  conveniency  of  speech,  we  call  Identity. 
\t  admits  of  great  change  of  the  subject,  providing  the  change  be 
gradual,  sometimes  even  of  a  total  change  ;  as  that  of  my  country- 
man's pistol,  which,  with  a  new  stock,  a  new  lock,  and  a  ?ie?v  barrel, 
was  still  his  old  pistol. 

2.  And  the  changes,  which,  in  common  language,  are  made  con- 
sistently with  Identity,  differ  from  those  that  are  thought  to  destroy 
it,  not  in  kind,  but  in  number  and  degree.  It  has  no  fixed  nature 
when  applied  to  bodies;  and  questions  about  the  Identity  of  a  body 
are  very  often  questions  about  words.  But  Identity,  when  applied 
to  persons,  has  no  ambiguity,  and  admits  not  of  degrees,  or  of  more 


f  HAP.  vi.     Of  the  Train  of  Thought  in  the  Mind.  1 77 

or  less.     It  is  the  foundation  of  all  rights  and  obligations,  and  of  all 
accountableness  ;  and  the  notion  of  it  is  fixed  and  precise. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  TRAIN  OF  THOUGHT  IN  THE  MIND. 


405.  EVERY  man  is  conscious  of  a  SucccMion  of  Thought* 
ii  pas-  in  his  mind  while  lie  is  awake,  even  when  they 

not  excited  by  external  objects. 

O6,v.  The  mind  on  this  account  lias  been  compared  to  liquor  in 

of  fermentation.     When  it  is  not  in  this  state,  being-  once 

at  rest,  it  ren:  .  ,  until  it  is  mo\ed  by  some  external  im- 

pulst  il  prompter.     l>ut,  in  the  state  of  fermentation,  it  lias 

n  when  there  is  no  impulse 

Vom  without,  sufiers  it  not  to  be  ai  rest  a  moment,  but  produces  a 
taut  Tiiotion  and  ebullition,  while  it  contini!  '-nt. 

406.  There  is  surely  no  similitude  between  motion  and 
Thought  ;  but  there  i>  an  analogy,  so  obvious  to  all  men,  that 
the  same  words  are  often  applied  to  both  ;  and  many  modi- 
fications of  Thought  have  no  name  but  such  as  is  borrowed 
from  the  modifications  of  motion.     (See  tfrl.  2-23.  and  238. 
///w.v.  i.  and  2.) 

.  1.  Many  Thoughts  are  excited  by  the  senses.  The  c:r 
or  occasions  of  these  may  be  considered  as  external  :  but,  when 
such  external  causes  do  nut  operate  upon  us,  we  continue  to  think 
from  some  internal  cause.  From  the  constitution  of  the  mind  itself 
there  is  a  constant  ebullition  of  Thought,  a  constant  intestine  mo- 
tion ;  not  only  of  Thoughts  barely  speculative,  but  of  sentiments, 
passions  and  affections,  which  attend  'them.  (~  See  Art.  224.  Illus.J 

2.  This  continued  succession  of  Thought  has,  by  some  philoso- 
phers, been   called  the  imagination.     It  was  formerly  called   the 

'••,  or  the  phantasy.  If  the  old  name  be  laid  aside,  it  were  to  be 
wished  that  a  name  were  given  to  it,  less  ambiguous  than  that  of 
Imagination,  —  a  name  which  has  two  or  three  meanings  besides. 
(Art.  259.  Obs.  1.  and  2.  and  Art.  141.) 

3.  It  is  often  called  the   train  of  ideas.     This  may  lead   one  to 
think,  that  it  is  a  train  of  bare  conceptions  ;  but  this  would  surely 
be  a  mistake.     It  is  made  up  of  many  other  operations  of  mind,  as 
well  as  of  conceptions,  or  ideas.     (Art.  200.) 

Example.  Memory,  judgment,  reasoning,  passions,  affections  and 

purposes;  in  a  word,  every  operation  of  the  mind  (excepting  those 

of  sense)  is  exerted  occasionally  in  this  Train  of  Thought,  and  has 

'tare  as  an  ingredient  ;  so  that  we  must  take  the  word  idea  in  a 


178  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  m* 

very  extensive  sense,  if  we  make  the  Train  of  our  Thoughts  to  be 
only  a  Train  of  Ideas.     (" See  Art.  36.  Illus.  1,  2,  and  3.) 

.  407.  To  pass  from  the  name,  and  consider  the  thing,  we 
may  observe,  that  the  TRAINS  OF  THOUGHT  in  the  mind  are 
of  two  kinds : 

First,  they  are  either  such  as  flow  spontaneously,  like 
water  from  a  fountain,  without  any  exertion  of  a  governing 
principle  to  arrange  them.  (Aft.  202.) 

Or,  secondly,  they  are  regulated  and  directed  by  an  ac- 
tive effort  of  the  mind,  with  some  view  and  intention.  (Art. 
203.  and  224.) 

Obs.  Before  we  consider  these  in  tlieir  order,  it  is  proper  to  pre- 
mise, that  these  two  kinds,  how  distinct  soever  in  their  nature,  are 
for  the  most  part  mixed,  in  persons  awake  and  come  to  years  of  un- 
derstanding. C See  Art.  199.) 

Illus.  1.  On  the  one  hand,  we  are  rarely  so  vacant  of  all  project 
and  design,  as  to  let  our  Thoughts  take  their  own  course,  without 
the  least  check  or  direction :  or  if  at  any  time  we  should  be  in  this 
state,  some  object  will  present  itself,  which  is  too  interesting  not  to 
engage  the  attention,  and  rouse  the  active  or  contemplative  powers 
that  were  at  rest.  (Art.  201.) 

2.  On  the  other  hand,  when  a  man  is  giving  the  most  intense  ap- 
plication to  any  speculation,  or  to  any  scheme  of  conduct,  when  he 
wishes  to  exclude  every  Thought  that  is  foreign  to  his  present  pur- 
pose ;  such  Thoughts  will  often  impertinently  intrude  upon  him,  in 
spite  of  his  endeavours  to  the  contrary,  and  occupy,  by  a  kind  of 
violence,  some  part  of  the  time  destined  to  another  purpose.  One 
man  may  have  the  command  of  his  Thoughts  more  than  another 
man,  and  the  same  man,  more  at  one  time  than  at  another :  but  I 
Apprehend,  that  in  the  best  trained  mind,  the  Thoughts  will  same- 
times  be  restive,  sometimes  capricious  and  self-willed,  even  when  it 
:s  v/ished  to  have  them  most  under  command. 

408.  We  must  ascribe  to  Him  who  made  us,  and  not  to 
the  mind,  the  power  of  calling  up  any  Thought  at  pleasure, 
because  such  a  call  or  volition  supposes  that  Thought  to  be 
already  in  the  mind  ;  for  otherwise,  how  should  it  be  the 
object  of  volition  ?  As  this  must  be  granted  on  the  one  hand, 
so  it  is  no  less  certain  on  the  other,  that  a  man  has  a  consid- 
erable power  in  regulating  and  disposing  his  own  Thoughts. 
Of  this  every  man  is  conscious,  and  I  can  no  more  doubt  of 
it,  than  I  can  doubt  whether  I  think  now,  as  I  was  obliged 
to  think  when  I  wrote  the  Illustration  to  Article  90. 

Illus.  1.  We  seem  to  treat  the  Thoughts  that  present  themselves 
to  the  Fancy  in  crowds,  as  a  great  man  treats  the  persons  who  at- 
tend his  levee.  They  are  all  ambitious  of  his  attention ;  he  goes  round 
the  circle,  bestowing  a  bow  upon  one,  a  smile-  upon  another;  asks  a 
:-hort  question  of  a  third ;  while  a  fourth  is  honoured  with  a  particv- 


, .  vi.     Of  the  Train  of  Thought  in  the  Mind.  179 

tar  conference ;  and  the  greater  part  have  no  particular  mark  of  at- 
tention, but  go  as  they  came.  It  is  true,  he  can  give  no  mark  of  his 
attention  to  those  who  v>'cre  not  there,  but  he  has  a  sufficient  num- 
ber for  making"  a  choice  and  distinction. 

2.  In  like  manner,  a  number  of  Thoughts  present  themselves  to 
the  Fancy  spontaneously  ;  but  if  we  pay  no  attention  to  them,  if  \ve 
hold  no  conference  with  them,  they  puss  with  the  crowd,  and  are 
immediately  forgotten,  as  if  they  had  never  appeared.  But  those 
to  which  we  think  proper  to  pay  attention,  may  be  stopped,  examin- 
ed, and  arranged,  for  any  particular  purpose  which  we  have  in  view. 
C See  Chap.  VI.  Book  t.J 

409.  It  may  likewise  be  observed,  that  a  Train  of  Thought, 
which  was  at  first  composed  by  application  and  judgment, 
when  it  has  been  often  repeated,  and  becomes  familiar,  will 
present  itself  spontaneously.     Thus,  when  a  man  has  com- 
posed an  air  in  music,  so  as  to  please  his  own  ear — after  he 
has  played,  or  sung  it  often — the  notes  will  arrange  them- 
selves in  just  order;  and  it  requires  no  eilbrt  to  regulate 
their  succession.     (Sec  Art.  136.  and  Art.  128.  Illus.) 

Jllits.  Thus  we  see,  that  the  Fancy  is  made  up  of  Trains  of  Think- 
ing ;  some  of  which  are  spontaneous,  others  studied  and  regulated; 
and  the  greater  part  are  mixed  of  both  kinds,  and  take  their  deno- 
mination from  that  which  is  most  prevalent :  and  that  a  Train  of 
Thought,  which  at  first  was  studied  and  composed,  may  by  habit 
present  itself  spontaneously.  C  See  Art.  130.) 

I.  Of  spontaneous  Trains  of  Thought. 

410.  When  the  work  of  the  day  is  over,  and  a  man  lies 
down  to  relax  his  body  and  mind,  he  cannot  cease  from 
Thinking,   though  he  desire  it.     Something  occurs  to  his 
Fancy;    that    is   followed    by   another   thing,    and   so   his 
Thought^  are  carried  on  from  one  object  to  another,  until 
sleep  closes  the  scene. 

Illus.  In  this  operation  cf  the  mind,  it  is  not  one  faculty  only  that 
is  employed ;  there  are  many  that  join  together  in  its  production. 
Sometimes  the  transactions  of  the  day  are  brought  upon  the  stage, 
and  acted  over  again,  as  it  were,  upon  this  theatre  of  the  Imagina- 
tion. In  this  case,  Memory  surely  acts  the  most  considerable  part, 
since  the  scenes  exhibited  are  not  fictions,  but  realities,  which  are 
remembered;  yet  in  this  case  the  Memory  does  not  act  alone — 
other  powers  are  employed,  and  attend  upon  their  proper  objects. 
The  transactions  remembered  will  be  more  or  less  interesting;  and 
we  cannot  then  review  our  own  conduct,  nor  that  of  others,  wth- 
out  passing  some  judgment  upon  it.  This  we  approve,  that  we  dis- 
approve, (~Art.  355.)  Tins  elevates,  that  lv:mb:  -^  a/.d  depresses 
us,  (Art.  359.)  Persons  that  are  n 

,  hardly  appear,  even  to  the  IITK-.:..  .<   f'tv.ndly 

or  unfriendly  emotion,  (Art.  360.)     We  judge  and  reason  about 


180  &  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  m, 

things,  as  well  as  persons  in  such  reveries.  We  remember  what  a 
man  said  and  did;  from  this  we  pass  to  his  designs,  and  to  his  gene- 
ral character,  and  frame  some  hypothesis  to  make  the  whole  con- 
sistent. Such  Trains  of  Thought  we  may  call  Historical.  (See 
Example,  Art.  359.) 

411.  There  are  others  which  we  may  call  romantic,  in 
which  the  plot  is  formed  by  the  creative  power  of  Fancy, 
without  any  regard  to  what  did  or  what  will  happen.     In 
these  also,  the  powers  of  judgment,  taste,  moral  sentiment, 
as  well  as  the  passions  and  affections,  come  in  and  take  a 
share  in  the  execution.     (See  Art.  264.  Illus.  1.  and  2.) 

Him.  1.  In  these  scenes,  the  man  himself  commonly  acts  a  very 
distinguished  part,  and  seldom  does  any  thing  that  he  does  not  ap- 
prove. Here  the  miser  will  be  generous,  the  coward  brave,  and  the 
knave  honest.  Mr.  Addison,  in  the  Spectator,  calls  this  play  of  the 
Fancy,  castle-building. 

2.  A  castle-builder,  in  his  fictitious  scenes,  will  figure,  not  accord- 
ing to  his  real  character,  but  according  to  the  highest  opinion  he 
has  been  able  to  form  of  himself,  and  perhaps  far  beyond  that  opin- 
ion. For  in  those  imaginary  conflicts  the  passions  easily  yield  to 
reason,  and  a  man  exerts  the  noblest  efforts  of  virtue  and  magna- 
nimity, with  the  same  ease,  as,  in  his  dreams,  he  flies  through  the 
air,  or  plunges  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean. 

412.  The  Romantic  scenes  of  Fancy  are  most  commonly 
the  occupation  of  young  minds,  riot  yet  so  deeply  engaged 
in  life  as  to  have  their  Thoughts  taken  up  by  its  real  cares 
and  business.     (See  Art.  27o.  and  269.) 

Illus.  1.  Those  active  powers  of  the  mind,  which  are  most  luxu- 
riant by  constitution,  or  have  been  most  cherished  by  education,  im- 
patient to  exert  themselves,  hurry  the  Thought  into  scenes  that 
give  them  play ;  and  the  boy  commences  in  Imagination,  according 
to  the  bent  of  his  mind,  a  general  or  a  statesman,  a  poet  or  an  orator. 
C See  Art.  276.) 

2.  When  the  Fair  Ones  become  castle-builders,  they  use  different 
materials ;  and  while  the  young  soldier  is  earned  into  the  field  of 
Mars,  where  he  pierces  the  thickest  squadrons  of  the  enemy,  de- 
spising death  in  all  its  forms ;  the  gay  and  lovely  nymph,  whose 
heart  has  never  felt  the  tender  passion,   is  transported  into  a  bril- 
liant assembly,   where  she   draws  the  attention  of  every  eye,  and 
makes  an  impression  on  the  noblest  heart. 

3.  But  no  sooner  has  Cupid's  arrow  found  its  way  into  her  heart, 
than  the  whole  scenery  of  her  Imagination  is  changed.     Balls  and 
assemblies  have  now  no  charms.     Woods  and  groves,  the  flowery 
bank  and  the  crystal  fountain,  are  the  scenes  she  frequents  in  Ima- 
gination.    She   becomes   an   Arcadian   shepherdess,    feeding'   her 
bleating  flock  beside  that  of  her  Strephon,  and  wishes  for  nothing 
more  to  complete  her  present  happiness. 

4.  In  a  few  years  the  love-sick  maid  is  transformed  into  the  soli- 
citous mother.     Her  smiling  offspring  play  around  her.     She  v" 


CHAP.  vi.     Of  the  Train  of  Thought  in  the  Mind.  181 

them  with  a  parent's  eye.  Her  Imagination  immediately  raises 
them  to  manhood,  and  brings  them  forth  upon  the  stage  of  life. 
One  son  makes  a  fig-arc  in  the  army,  another  shines  at  the  bar ;  her 
daughters  are  happily  disposed  of  in  marriage,  and  bring*  new  alli- 
ances to  the  family.  Her  "  children's  children"  rise  up  before  her, 
and  venerate  her  gray  hairs. 

Carol.  Thus,  the  spontaneous  sallies  of  Fancy  arc  as  various  as 
the  caivs  and  fears,  the  desires  and  hopes,  of  man. 

Jlius.  5.  These  fill  up  the  scenes  of  Fancy,  as  well  as  the  page  of 
the  satirist.  Whatever  possesses  the  heart,  makes  occasional  excur- 
sions into  the  Imug. nation,  and  acts  such  scenes  upon  that  theatre 
as  are  ageceable  to  the  pre1. -ailing  p.ission.  The  man  of  traffic,  who 
has  committed  a  rich  cargo  to  the  inconstant  ocean,  follows  it  in  his 
thought;  and,  according*  us  his  hopes  or  his  fears  prevail,  he  is 
haunted  with  storms,  and  rocks,  and  shipwreck  ;  or  he  makes  a 
happy  and  a  lucrative  voyage,  and  before  his  vessel  h;is  lost  sight  of 
land,  he  has  disposed  of  the  profit  which  she  is  to  bring-  at  her  return. 

6.  The  poet  is  carried  into  the  Klysian  fields,  where  he  converses 
with  the  ghosts  of  Homer  and  Orpheus.  The  philosopher  makes  a 
tour  through  the  planetary  system,  or  goes  down  to  the  centre  of 
the  earth,  and  examines  its  various  strata.  In  the  devout  man  like- 
wise, the  great  objects  that  possess  his  heart  often  play  in  his  Ima- 
gination ;  sometimes  he  is  transported  to  the  regions  of  the  blessed, 
irom  whence  he  looks  down  with  pity  upon  the  folly  and  the  pa- 
geantry of  human  life  ;  or  he  prostrates  himself  j  with  devout  venera- 
tion, before  the  throne  of  the  Most  High ;  or  he  converses  with 
celestial  spirits  about  the  natural  and  moral  kingdom  of  God,  which 
he  now  sees  only  by  a  faint  light,  but  hopes  hereafter  to  view  with 
a  steadier  and  a  clearer  eye. 

413.  In  persons  arrived  at  maturity,  there  is  even  in  these 
spontaneous  sallies  of  Fancy,  some  arrangement  of  Thought; 
ami  I  conceive  that  it  Willie  readily  allowed,  that  in  those 
Avho  have  the  greatest  stock  of  knowledge,  and  the  best  na- 
tural parts,  even  the  spontaneous  movements  of  Fancy  will 
be  the  most  regular  and  connected.  They  have  an  order, 
connexion,  and  unity,  by  which  they  are  no  less  distinguish- 
ed from  the  dreams  of  one  asleep,  or  the  ravings  of  one  de- 
lirious on  the  one  hand,  than  from  the  finished  productions 
of  art  on  the  other. 

Carol.  1.  It  is,  therefore,  in  itself  highly  probable,  to  say  no  more 
i)f  the  matter,  that  whatsoever  is  regular  and  rational  in  a  Train  of 
Thought,  which,  without  any  study,  presents  itself  spontaneously  to 
a  man's  Fancy,  is  a  copy  of  what  had  been  before  composed  by  his 
own  rational  powers,  or  those  of  some  other  person.  (~Illus.  2, 
Art.  264.) 

Example.  We  certainly  judge  so  in  similar  cases.  Thus,  in  a 
nook  I  find  a  Train  of  Thinking,  \vhich  has  the  marks  of  knowledge 
and  judgment.  I  ask,  how  it  was  produced  ?  It  is  printed  in  a  book. 
This  does  not  satiety  me,  because  the  book  has  neither  knowledge 


182  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iij> 

nor  reason.  I  am  told  that  a  printer  printed  it,  and  a  compositor 
set  the  types.  Neither  does  this  satisfy  me.  These  causes  per- 
haps knew  very  little  of  the  subject.  There  must  be  a  prior  cause 
of  the  composition.  It  was  printed  from  a  manuscript.  True, 
But  the  manuscript  is  as  ignorant  as  the  printed  book.  The  manu- 
script was  written  or  dictated  by  a  man  of  knowledge  and  judgment. 
Such  a  Train  of  Thinking1  could  not  originally  be  produced  by 
any  cause  that  neither  reasons  nor  thinks. 

Corol.  2.  Whether  such  a  Train  of  Thinking  be  printed  in  a  book, 
or  printed,  so  to  speak,  in  his  mind,  and  issue  spontaneously  from 
his  Fancy,  it  must  have  been  composed  with  judgment  by  himself, 
©r  by  some  other  rational  being. 

II.  Of  a  regular  Train  of  Thought. 

414.  By  a  regular  Train  of  Thought,  we  mean  that  which 
has  a  beginning,  a  middle,  am)  an  end,  and  an  arrangement 
of  its  parts,  according  to  some  rule,  or  with  some  intention. 
Thus  the  conception  of  a  design,  and  of  the  means  of  execu- 
ting it ;  the  conception  of  a  whole,  and  the  number  and  or- 
der of  the  parts — are  instances  of  the  most  simple  Trains  of 
Thought  that  can  be  called  regular. 

Illus.  Man  has  undoubtedly  a  power  (whether  we  call  it  taste  or 
judgment,  is  not  of  any  consequence  in  the  present  argument), 
whereby  he  distinguishes  between  a  composition,  and  a  heap  of 
materials;  between  a  house,  for  instance,  and  a  heap  of  stones;  be- 
tween a  sentence,  and  a  heap  of  words;  between  a  picture,  and  a 
heap  of  colours.  Children  have  no  regular  Trains  of  Thought  un- 
til judgment  begins  to  operate.  Those  who  are  born  such  idiots  as 
never  to  show  any  signs  of  judgment,  shew  as  few  signs  of  regular- 
ity of  Thought.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  judgment  is  connected 
with  all  regular  Trains  of  Thought,  and  may  be  the  cause  of  them. 

415.  Such  Trains  of  Thought  discover  themselves  in  chil- 
dren about  two  years  of  age.    They  can  then  give  attention 
to  the  operations  of  older  children  in  making  their  little  hou- 
ses, and  ships,  and  other  such  things,  in  imitation  of  the 
works  of  men. 

Illus.  1.  They  are  then  capable  of  understanding  a  uttle  of  lan- 
guage, which  shews  both  a  regular  Train  of  Thinking,  and  some 
degree  of  abstraction.  I  think  we  may  perceive  a  distinction  be- 
tween the  faculties  of  children  of  two  or  three  years  of  age  and 
those  of  the  most  sagacious  brutes.  They  can  then  perceive  de- 
sign and  regularity  in  the  works  of  others,  especially  of  older  child- 
ren ;  their  little  minds  are  fired  with  the  discovery ;  they  are  eager 
to  imitate  it,  and  never  at  rest  till  they  can  exhibit  something  of 
the  same  kind. 

2.  When  a  child  first  learns  by  imitation  to  do  something  that  re- 
quires design,  how  does  he  exult !  Pythagoras  was  not  more  happy 
in  the  discovery  of  his  famous  theorem.  He  seems  then  first  to  re- 
Hect  upon  himself,  and  to  swell  with  self-e^em,  His  eyes  sparklo 


.  vi.     Of  the  Train  of  Thought  in  the  Mind.          183 

He  is  impatient  to  show  his  performance  to  all  about  him,  and  thinks 
himself  entitled  to  their  applause,  lie  is  applauded  by  all,  and 
feels  the  same  kind  of  emotion  from  this  applause,  as  a  Roman  Con- 
sul did  from  a  triumph.  Ho  has  now  a  consciousness  of  some  worth 
in  himself.  He  assumes  a  superiority  over  those  who  are  not  so 
wise  ;  and  pays  respect  to  those  who  are  wiser  than  himself.  He 
attempts  something-  else,  and  is  every  day  reaping  new  laurels. 

41(3.  As  children  grow  up,  they  are  delighted  with  tales, 
with  childish  games,  with  designs  and  stratagems:  every 
thing  of  this  kind  stores  the  Fancy  with  a  new  regular  Train 
of  Thought,  which  becomes  familiar  by  repetition,  so  that 
one  part  draws  the  whole  after  it  in  the  Imagination.  (*flrt. 
422.) 

Obs.  1.  Tlrc  imagination  of  a  child,  like  the  hand  of  a  painter,  is 
Jong1  employed  in  copying1  the  works  of  others,  hefore  it  attempts 
any  invention  of  its  own. 

2.  The  power  of  Invention  is  not  yet  brought  forth,  but  it  is 
coming-  forward,  and,  like  the  bud  of  a  tree,  is  ready  to  burst  its  in- 
teguments, when  some  accident  aids  its  eruption. 

41 7.  There  is  no  power  of  the  understanding  that  gives 
so  much  pleasure  to  the  owner  as  that  of  Invention ;  whether 
it  be  employed  in  mechanics,  in  science,  in  the  conduct  of 
life,  in  poetry,  in  wit,  or  in  the  fine  arts. 

Illus.  One  who  is  conscious  of  it,  acquires  thereby  a  worth  and 
importance  in  his  own  eye  which  he  had  not  before.  He  looks  up- 
on himself  as  one  who  formerly  lived  upon  the  bounty  and  gratuity 
of  others,  but  who  has  now  acquired  some  property  of  his  own. 
(~See  I  tins.  6.  and  7.  Jlrt  427.  J  When  this  power  begins  to  be  felt 
in  the  young  mind,  it  has  the  grace  of  novelty  added  to  its  other 
charms,  and,  like  the  youngest  child  of  the  family,  is  caressed  be- 
\  o'ld  all  the  rest. 

Carol.  We  may  be  sure,  therefore,  that  as  soon  as  children  are 
conscious  of  this  power,  they  will  exercise  it  in  such  ways  as  are 
suited  to  their  age,  and  to  the  objects  about  which  they  are  em- 
ployed. This  gives  rise  to  innumerable  new  associations,  and  re- 
gular Trains  of  Thought,  which  make  the  deeper  impression  upon 
the  mind,  as  they  are  its  exclusive  property. 

418.  Thus  we  conceive,  that  the  minds  of  children,  as 
soon  as  they  have  judgment  to  distinguish  what  is  regular, 
orderly,  and  connected,  from  a  mere  medley  of  Thought,  are, 
by  these  means,  furnished  with  regular  Trains  of  Thinking. 

Mlus.  1.  First  and  chiefly,  by  copying  what  they  see  in  the  works 
and  in  the  discourse  of  others.  Man  is  the  most  imitative  of  all 
animals ;  he  not  only  imitates  intentionally  what  he  thinks  has  any 
grace  or  beauty,  but  even  without  intention,  he  is  led  by  a  kind  of 
instinct,  (which  it  is  difficult  to  resist),  into  the  modes  of  speaking, 
thinking,  and  acting,  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to  sec  and 


184  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  IH, 

hear  in  his  early  years.  The  more  children  see  of  what  is  regular 
and  beautiful  in  what  is  presented  to  them,  the  more  they  are  led 
to  observe  and  to  imitate  it. 

Corol.  This  is  the  chief  part  of  their  stock,  and  descends  to  them 
by  a  kind  of  t:«. edition  from  those  who  came  before  them  ;  and  we 
shall  find,  that  the  Fancy  of  most  men  is  furnished  from  those  with, 
whom  they  have  conversed,  as  well  as  from  their  religion,  language, 
and  manners. 

Hlu-s.  2.  Secondly  By  the  additions  or  Innovations  that  are  pro- 
perty their  own,  their  Trains  of  Thinking-  will  be  greater  or  less,  in 
proportion  to  their  study  and  invention ;  but  in  the  bulk  of  mankind, 
study  and  invention  are  riot  very  considerable.  Hence  the.  barren- 
ness of  their  mind. 

Obs.  Every  profession,  and  every  rank  in  life,  has  a  manner  of 
Thinking,  and  a  turn  of  Fancy  that  are  peculiarly  it^gpwn ;  and  by 
which  it  is  characterized  in  plays  and  works  of  humour.  The  bulk 
of  men  of  the  same  nat'on,  of  the  same  rank,  and  of  the  same  occu- 
pation, are  cast  us  it  were  in  the  same  mould.  This  mould  itself 
changes  gradually,  but  slowly,  by  new  inventions,  by  intercourse 
with  strangers,  or  by  other  accidents. 

419.  The  several  imaginations  even  of  men  of  good  parts, 
never  serve  them  readily,  except  in  tiling,  wherein  they 
have  been  much  ..exercised.  A  minister  of  state  hMds  a 
conference  with  a  foreign  ambassador,  with  no  greater  emo- 
tion than  a  professor  in  a  college  prelects  to  his  pupils.  The 
Imagination  of  each  presents  to  him  what  the  occasion  re- 
quires to  be  said,  and  how  it  should  be  delivered.  Let  them 
change  places,  and  either  would  find  himself  at  a  loss.  (See 
Jirt.  421.) 

Hlus.  The  habits  which  the  human  mind  is  capable  of  acquiring 
by  exercise',  are  in  many  instances  wonderful ;  in  none  more  won- 
derful, than  in  that  versatility  of  Imagination  which  a  well-bred 
man  acquires,  by  being  much  exercised  in  the  various  scenes  of 
life.  In  the  morning  he  visits  a  friend  in  affliction.  Here  his  Im- 
agination brings  forth  from  its  store  every  topic  of  consolation ; 
every  thing  that  is  agreeable  to  the  laws  of  friendship  and  sympa- 
thy, and  nothing  that  is  not  so.  From  thence  he  drives  to  the  min- 
ister's levee,  where  Imagination  readily  suggests  what  is  proper  to 
be  said  or  replied  to  every  man,  and  in  what  manner,  according  to 
the  degree  of  acquaintance  or  familiarity,  of  rank  or  dependence, 
of  opposition  or  concurrence  of  interests,  of  confidence  or  distrust, 
that  is  between  them.  Nor  does  all  this  employment  hinder  him 
from  carrying  on  some  design  with  much  artifice,  and  endeavouring 
to  penetrate  into  the  views  of  others  through  the  closest  disguises. 
From  the  levee  he  goes  to  the  House  of  Commons,  and  speaks  upon 
the  affairs  of  the  nation;  from  thence  to  a  ball  or  assembly,  and 
entertains  the  ladies.  His  Imagination  puts  on  the  friend,  the 
courtier,  the  patriot,  the  fine  gentleman,  with  more  ease  than  we 
put  off  one  suit  and  put  on  another. 

Corol.  This  is  the  effect  of  training  and  exercise.     For  a  man  of 


.  vi.     Of  the  Train  of  Thought  in  the  Mind.          185 

equal  parts  and  knowledge,  bat  unaccustomed  to  those  scenes 
of  public  life,  is  quite  disconcerted  when  first  brought  into  them, 
His  thoughts  are  put  to  flight,  and  he  cannot  rally  them. 

420.  Feats  of  Imagination  may  be  learned  by  application 
and  practice,  as  wonderful  and  as  useless  as  the  feats  of 
balancers  and  rope-dancers.     (Art.  131.) 

Illus.  1.  When  a  man  can  make  a  hundred  verses  standing  on  one 
foot,  or  play  three  or  four  games  at  chess  at  the  same  time  without 
seeing  the  board,  it  is  probable  lie  hath  spent  his  life  in  acquiring 
such  a  feat.  However,  such  unusual  phenomena  shew  what  habits 
of  Imagination  may  be  acquired. 

2.  When  such  habits  are  acquired  and  perfected,  they  are  exer- 
cised without  any  laborious  effort ;  like  the  habit  of  playing  upon 
an  instrument  of  music.     There  are  innumerable  motions  of  the  fin- 
gers upon  the  stops  or  keys,  which  must  be  directed  in  one  particu- 
lar train  or  succession.     There  is  only  one  arrangement  of  those 
motions  that  is  right,  while  there  are  ten  thousand  that  are  wrong, 
and  would  spoil  the  music.     The  musician  thinks  not  in  the  least  of 
the  arrangement  of  those  motions  ;  he  has  a  distinct  idea  of  the  tune, 
and  wills  to  play  it.     The  motions  of  the  fingers  arrange  themselves, 
so  as  to  answer  his  intention.     ( Illus.  2.  Art.  138.) 

3.  In  like  manner,  when  a  man  speaks  upon  a  subject  with  which 
lie  is  acquainted,  there  is  a  certain  arrangement  of  his  Thoughts 
and  words  necessary  to  muke  his  discourse  sensible,  pertinent,  and 
grammatical.     In  every  sentence,  there  are  more  rules  of  grammar, 
logic,  and  rhetoric,  that  may  be  transgressed,  than  there  are  words 
and  letters  in  the  sentence.     He  speaks  without  thinking  of  any  of 
those  rules,  and  yet  observes  them  all,  as  if  they  were  all  in  his  eye. 

4.  This  is  a  habit  so  similar  to  that  of  a  player  on  an  instrument, 
that  both  seem  to  be  acquired  in  the  same  way,  that  is,  by  much 
practice,  and  the  power  of  habit,     f^lrt.  126.) 

5. 'When  a  man  speaks  well  and  methodically  upon  a  subject 
without  study,  and  with  perfect  ease,  I  believe  we  may  take  it  for 
granted  that  his  Thoughts  run  in  a  beaten  track.  There  is  a  mould 
in  his  myid,  which  has  been  formed  by  much  practice,  or  by  study, 
for  this  very  subject,  or  for  some  other  so  similar  and  so  analogous, 
that  his  discourse  falls  with  ease  into  this  mould,  and  takes  its  form 
from  it. 

III.  Of  the  Means  of  improving  a  Train  of  Thought. 

421.  We  have  now  considered  the  operations  of  Fancy 
that  are  either  spontaneous  or  regular;  and  have  endeavor- 
ed to  account  for  their  regularity  and  arrangement.     The 
natural  powers  of  Judgment  and  Invention,  the  pleasure 
that  always  attends  the  exercise  of  those  powers,  the  means 
we  have  of  improving  them  by  our  imitation  of  others,  and 
the  effect  of  practice  and  habit,  sufficiently  account  for  this 
phenomenon,  this  Train  of  Thought,  without  supposing  any 


186  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ii*~ 

unaccountable  attractions  by  which  our  Ideas  arrange  them- 
selves.    (See  Art.  127.  and  128.) 

Illus.  1.  But  we  are  able  to  direct  our  thoughts  in  a  certain  course,, 
so  as  to  perform  a  destined  task. 

2.  Every  work  of  art  has  its  model  framed  in  the  Imagination, 
Here  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  the  Republic  of  Plato,  the  Principia  of 
Newton,  were  fabricated.     Shall  we  believe,  that  those  works  took 
the  form  in  which  they  now  appear  of  themselves       That  the  sen- 
timents, the  manners,  and  the  passions  arranged  themselves  at  once 
In  the  mind  of  Homer,  so  as  to  form  the  Iliad  ?   Was  there  no  more 
effort  in  the  composition,  than  there  is  in  telling  a  well-known  tale, 
or  singing  a  favourite  song  ?   This  cannot  be  believed,     f  Example, 
.frf.413.) 

3.  Granting  that  some  happy  Thought  first  suggested  the  design 
of  singing  the  wrath  of  Achilles ;  yet,  surely,  *it  was  a  matter  of 
Judgment  and  choice  where  the  narration  sho'uld  begin,  and  -where 
it  should  end. 

4.  Granting  that  the  fertility  of  the  poet's  Imagination  suggested 
a  variety  of  rich  materials;  was  not  Judgment  necessary  to  select 
what  was  proper,  to  reject  what  was  improper,  to  arrange  the  mate- 
Hals  into  a  just  composition,  and  to  adapt  them  to  each  other,  and 
to  the  design  of  the  whole  ?     (~*lrt.  244.) 

5.  No  man  can  believe  that  Homer's  ideas,  merely  by  certain 
sympathies  and  antipathies,  by  certain  attractions  and  repulsions  in- 
herent in  their  natures,  arranged  themselves  according  to  the  most 
perfect  rules  of  epic  poetry ;  and  Newton's  according  to  the  rules  of 
Mathematical  composition.     ( See  *1rt.  275.  Example  2.^) 

Carol.  The  Train  of  Thinking,  therefore,  is  capable  of  being 
guided  and  directed,  much  in  the  same  manner  as  the  horse  we  ride. 
The  horse  has  his  strength,  his  agility,  and  his  mettle  in  himself; 
he  has  been  taught  certain  movements,  and  many  useful  habits 
I  hat  make  him  more  subservient  to  our  purposes,  and  obedient  to 
our  will  :  but  to  accomplish  a  journey,  he  must  be  directed  by  the 
rider. 

422.  In  like  manner,  Fancy  has  its  original  powers,  which 
are  very  different  in  different  persons ;  it  has  likewise  more 
regular  motions,  to  which  it  has  been  trained  by  a  long 
course  of  discipline  and  exercise ;  and  by  which  it  may, 
extempore,  and  without  much  effort,  produce  things  that 
have  a  considerable  degree  of  beauty,  regularity,  and  design. 
(Art.  264.) 

Illus.  But  the  most  perfect  works  of  design  are  never  extempo- 
rary. Our  first  Thoughts  are  reviewed ;  we  place  them  at  a  proper 
distance;  examine  every  part,  and  take  a  complex  view  of  the 
whole  :  by  our  critical  faculties,  we  perceive  this  part  to  be  redund- 
ant, that  deficient ;  here  is  a  want  of  nerves,  there  a  want  of  deli- 
cacy ;  this  is  obscure,  that  too  diffuse  :  tilings  are  marshalled  anew, 
according  to  a  second  and  more  deliberate  judgment ;  what  was 
deficient,  is  supplied;  what  was  dislocated,  is  put  in  joint ;  redun- 


CHAP.  vii.  Of  Prejudices.  187 

dancies  are  lopped  oif,  and  the  whole  polished.     {See  Art.  2^0.  and 


2.  Thoi.gh  poets  of  all  artists  make  the  highest  claim  to  inspira- 
tion, yet  if  we  believe  Horace,  a  competent  judge,  no  production  iu 
that  art  can  have  merit,  which  has  not  cost  such  labour  as  this  in  the 
birth.  (See  Art.  277.  and  Illus.) 

Corol.  Tin-  conclusion  we  would  draw  from  all  that  has  been  said 
upon  tins  subject  is,  That  every  thing1  that  is  regular  in  that  Train 
of  Tno.i^hl,  which  we  call  Fancy  or  Imagination,  from  the  little 
designs  and  reveries  of  children,  to  the  grandest  productions  of  hu- 
in.-i-i  genius,  was  originally  the  offspring  of  imitation,  judgment,  and 
taste,  applied  with  some  effort  greater  or  less.  (Corol.-l.  and  2.  Art. 
264.)  What  one  person  composed  with  art  and  judgment,  is  imi- 
tated by  another  with  great  ease.  What  a  man  himself  at  first  com- 
po?cd  with  pains,  becomes  by  habit  so  familiar,  as  to  oft'er  itself 
spontaneously  to  his  Fancy  afterwards  :  but  nothing  of  merit  that  is 
reg  .l:ir,  was  ever  conceived  without  design,  nor  executed  without 
attention  and  care.  (See  the  Jllus.  and  Examples  to  Art.  275.) 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  PREJUDICES. 

423.  THE  perfection  of  judgment  is,  to  compare  our 
ideas  fairly  and  candidly,  either  by  juxta -position,  as  in  the 
case  of  intuitive  propositions,  or  by  the  intervention  of  inter- 
mediate ideas,  -A  hen  proof  is  requisite,  and  to  pass  a  decision 
on  that  comparison,  according  to  truth  and  justice,  unbiassed 
by  partiality  or  prejudice,  unseduced  by  fallacious  appear- 
ances in  things,  by  ambiguities  in  words,  or  by  a  disposition 
to  deceive,  or  to  be  deceived.  ( See  Art.  278.  and  358.,) 

Him.  As,  then,  the  purpose  of  all  our  inquiries  is,  to  discover 
truth  and  knowledge,  and  as  the  completion  of  this  discovery  con- 
sists in  discerning  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  it  is 
plain  that  we  cannot  proceed  one  step  without  having  constant  re- 
course to  the  operation  of  judgment.  We  exert  it  immediately  in 
cases  of  intuition?  we  exert  it  at  the  conclusion  of  every  process  of 
reasoning,  in  determining  whether  two  principal  ideas  agree  or  dis- 
agree ;  and  we  exert  it  in  every  step  of  that  process,  in.  deciding 
concerning  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  each  couple  of  inter- 
mediate ideas.  (Illus.  Art.  279.)  The  candid  inquirer,  therefore, 
should  study  to  preserve  his  mind  in  a  state  fitted  to  perform  this 
operation  in  a  proper  manner,  and  to  divest  it  of  all  obstructions  or 
incumbrances  which  may  interfere  with  its  success.  Without  this 
precaution,  it  is  vain  to  pretend  to  discover  truth,  because  we  shall 
only  perplex  and  discompose  our  minds,  spend  our  time  in  irksome- 


188  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  m, 

ness  to  ourselves,  in  disturbance  to  others,  and  sink  deeper  in  false- 
hood and  in  error.  After  all  the  candour  and  patience  we  can 
exercise,  the  investigation  of  knowledge  is  a  painful  and  laborious 
task;  but  our  labour  and  time  are  totally  thrown  away,  without  a 
legitimate  exertion  of  judgment.  (See  Art.  285.) 

Corol.  It  is,  therefore,  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance  in 
searching  for  truth,  to  know  those  impediments,  which  obstruct  the 
rectitude  of  our  judgments,  and  to  learn  the  rules  we  mast  observe, 
in  order  to  conduct  them  with  justice  and  expedition.  This  is  a 
subject  deserving  most  serious  attention,  and  must  not  be  omitted 
in  a  system  of  logic. 

424.  ERRONEOUS  JUDGMENTS  are  denominated  prejudi- 
ces, or  rash  judgments,  that  is  to  say,  judgments  passed 
before  we  have  duly  examined  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  on  which  we  intend  to  decide.     Prejudices  general Ij 
relate  to   opinions ;    prepossessions  to  attachments ;    the 
former  refer  chiefly  to  things,  the  latter  to  persons.     (See 
'Art.  358.) 

Obs.  The  term  Prejudices,  as  here  used,  comprehends  all  the 
impediments  which  interfere  with  our  forming  judgments  of  every 
sort,  whether  of  things  or  of  persons.  (Corol.  2.  p.  100.) 

425.  Prejudices  are  arranged  by  Lord  Bacon  under  four 
heads,  which  he  calls,  in  the  language  of  the  schools,  1.  IDOLA 
TRIBUS,  the  Prejudices  of  the  species;  2.  IDOLA  SPECUSS 
the  Prejudices  01  the  individual;  3.  IDOLA  FORI,  the  Pre- 
judices of  language ;  and,  4.  IDOLA  THEATRI,  the  Preju- 
dices of  authority. 

Obs.  These  terms,  though  scholastic,  are  extremely  significant. 
It  is  seldom  we  find  the  language  of  the  schoolmen  so  replete  with 
meaning.  Prejudices  are  not  improperly  distinguished  by  the  title 
of  Idola ;  because  they  occupy  the  place  of  truth  in  the  mind,  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  idol  attracts  in  the  grove  or  the  temple,  the  de- 
votion which  belongs  to  the  Author  of  nature, 

I.  Prejudices  of  the  first  Class,  or  Idola  Tribus. 

426.  The  first  class,  the  idola  tribiis,  are  such  Prejudices 
as  beset  the  whole  human  species ;  so  that  every  man  is  in 
danger  from  them.     They  arise,  says  Dr.  Reid,  from  prin- 
ciples of  the  human  constitution,  which  are  highly  useful  and 
necessary  in  our  present  state ;  but,  by  their  excess  or  de- 
fect, or  wrong  direction,  may  lead  us  into  error.     (See  Art* 
-237.  and  Him.) 

Obs.  As  the  active  principles  of  the  human  frame  are  wisely  con- 
trived by  the  Author  of  our  being,  for  the  direction  of  oar  actions, 
and  yet,  without  proper  regulation  and  restraint,  are  apt  to  lead  us 
wrong  ;  so  it  is  also  with  regard  to  those  parts  of  our  constitution 


vu<  Of  Prejudice*.  189 

that  have  influence  upon  our  opinions.  Of  this  we  may  take  the  fol- 
lowing" instances : 

427.  (i.)  First,  Men  are  prone  to  be  led  too  much  by  au- 
thority in  their  opinions.  (See  Art.  235.  and  lllus.) 

filus.  1.  In  the  first  part  of  life  we  have  no  other  guide ;  and 
without  a  disposition  to  receive  implicitly  what  we  are  taught,  we 
should  be  incapable  of  instruction,  and  incapable  of  improvement, 
(See  lllus,  Art.  234.) 

2.  When  judgment  is  ripe,  there  are  many  things  in  which  we 
are  incompetent  judges.     In  such  matters,  it  is  most  reasonable  to 
rely  upon  the  judgment  of  those  whom  we  believe  to  be  competent 
and  disinterested.     The  highest  court  of  judicature  in  the  nation 
relies  upon  the  authority  of  lawyers  and  physicians  in  matters  be- 
longing to  their  respective  professions.     (See  Art.  313.  lllus.) 

3.  Even  in  matters,  to  the  knowledge  of  which  we  have  access, 
authority  always  will  have,  and  ought  to  have,  more  or  less  weight, 
in  proportion  to  the  evidence  on  which  our  own  judgment  rests, 
and  the  opinion  we  have  of  the  judgment  and  candour  of  those  who 
differ  from  us,  or  agree  with  us.    The  modest  man,  conscious  of  his 
own  fallibility  in  judging,  is  in  danger  of  giving  too  much  to  authori- 
ty; the  arrogant,  of  giving  too  little. 

4.  In  all  matters  belonging  to  his  cognizance,  every  man  must  be 
determined  by  his  own  final  judgment,  otherwise  he  does  not  act 
the  part  of  a  rational  being.     Authority  may  add  weight  to  one 
scale ;  but  the  man  holds  the  balance,  and  judges  what  weight  he 
should  allow  to  authority. 

CoroL  As  therefore  our  regard  to  authority  may  be  either  too 
great  or  too  small,  the  bias  of  human  nature  seems  to  lean  to  the 
first  of  these  extremes ;  and  it  is  perhaps  good  for  men  in  general 
that  it  does  so. 

lllus.  5.  When  this  bias  concurs  with  an  indifference  about  truth, 
its  operation  will  be  the  more  powerful.  The  love  of  truth  is  natu- 
ral to  man,  and  strong  in  every  well-disposed  mind.  But  it  may  be 
overborne  by  party-zeal,  by  vanity,  by  the  desire  of  victory,  or  even 
by  laziness.  When  it  is  superior  to  these,  it  is  a  manly  virtue,  re- 
sulting from  the  exercise  of  industry,  fortitude,  self-denial,  candour, 
and  openness  to  conviction. 

6.  As  there  are  persons  in   the  world  of  so  mean  and  abject  a 
spirit,  that  they  rather  choose  to  owe  their  subsistence  to  the  chari- 
ty of  others,  than  by  industry  to  acquire  some  property  of  their 
own  ;  so  there  are  many  more  who  may  be  called  mere  beggars 
with  regard  to  their  opinions.     Through  laziness  and  indifference 
about  truth,   they|eave  to  others  the  drudgery  of  digging  for  this 
commodity ;  they  can  have  enough  at  second  hand  to  serve  their 

•'  occasions.  Their  concern  is  not  to  know  what  is  true,  but  what  is 
said  and  thought  on  such  subjects;  and  their  understanding1,  like 
Uieir  clothes,  is  cut  according  to  the  fashion.  (lllus.  1.  and  2.  Art. 
87.) 

7.  This  distemper  of  the  understanding  has  taken  such  deep  root 
in  a  great  part  of  mankind,  that  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  they  use 
their  own  judgment  in  things  that  do  not  concern  their  temporal 

17* 


190  *#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOO. 

interest;  nor  is  it  peculiar  to  the  ignorant;  it  infects  all  ranks-, 
"We  may  guess  their  opinions  when  we  know  where  they  were  born, 
of  what  parents,  how  educated,  and  what  company  they  have  kept 
These  circumstances  determine  their  opinions  in  religion,  in  politics* 
and  in  philosophy.  (See  +4rt.  233.  and  Illus.  1.  and  2.) 

428.  (u.)  A  second  general  prejudice  arises  from  a  dis- 
position to  measure  things  less  known,  and  less  familiar,  by 
those  that  are  better  known  and  more  familiar.  (See  Art.  74.) 

Jllus.  1.  This  is  the  foundation  of  analogical  reasoning,  to  which 
we  have  a  great  proneness  by  nature,  and  to  it  indeed  we  owe  a 
great  part  of  our  knowledge.  It  would  be  absurd  to  lay  aside  this 
kind  of  reasoning  altogether,  and  it  is  difficult  to  judge  how  far  we 
may  venture  upon  it.  The  bias  of  human  nature  is  to  judge  from 
too  slight  analogies.  (See  Chapter  IV.  .nook  /.) 

2.  The  mistakes  in  common  life,  which  are  owing  to  this  Preju- 
dice, are  innumerable,  and  are  evident  to  the  slightest  observation-. 
Men  judge  of  other  men  by  themselves,  or  by  the  small  circle  of 
their  acquaintance.  The  selfish  man  thinks  all  pretences  to  bene- 
volence and  public  spirit  to  be  mere  hypocrisy  or  self-deceit.  The 
rous  and  open-hearted  believe  fair  pretences  too  easily,  and  are 
apt  to  think  men  belter  than  they  ivully  :nv.  The  abandoned  and 
profligate  can  hardly  be  persuaded  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as 
real  virtue  in  the  world.  The  rustic  forms  his  notions  of  the  man- 
ners' and  characters  of  men  from  those  of  his  country  ullage,  and  is 
easily  duped  when  he  comes  into  a  great  city.  {See  Example  2. 
-V>9.) 

o.  It  is  commonly  taken  for  granted,  that  this  narrow  way  of 
judging  of  men  is  to  be  cured  only  by  an  extensive  intercourse 
\7ith  men  of  different  ranks,  professions,  and  nations  ;  and  that  the 
man  whose  acquaintance  has  been  confined  within  a  narrow  circle, 
must  have  many  Prejudices  and  narrow  notions,  which  a  more  ex- 
tensive intercourse  would  have  cured.  (See  Corol.  Art.  239.) 

429.  (in.)  Men  are  often  led  into  error  by  the  love  of 
simplicity,  which  disposes  them  to  reduce  things  to  few 
principles,  and  to  conceive  a  greater  simplicity  in  nature 
than  really  exists. 

Illus.  To  lore  simplicity,  and  to  be  pleased  with  it  wherever  we 
iind  it,  is  no  imperfection.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  result  of  good 
taste.  We  cannot  but  be  pleased  to  observe,  that  all  the  changes 
of  motion  produced  by  the  collision  of  bodies,  hard,  soft,  or  elastic, 
are  reducible  to  three  simple  laws  of  motion,  which  the  industry  of 
philosophers  has  discovered. 

Example.  When  we  consider  what  a  prodigious  variety  of  effects 
depend  upon  the  law  of  gravitation  ;  how  many  phenomena  in  the 
earth,  sea,  and  air,  which,  in  all  preceding  ages,  had  tortured  the 
wits  of  philosophers,  and  occasioned  a  thousand  vain  theories,  are 
shown  to  be  the  necessary  consequences  of  this  one  law;  how  the 
whole  system  of  sun,  moon,  planets  primary  and  secondary,  and 
comets,  'tire  kept  in  order  by  it,  and  their  seeming  irregularities 
accounted  fay  and  reduced  to  accurate  measures;  the  simplicity  <_•.}' 


MI.  '#  191 

the  cause,  and  the  beauty  and  variety  of  the  eft  eels,  must  ; 
mtemplative   mind.     By  this  noble  disco1 

we  arc  taken,   as' it  were,  behind  the  scene  in  this  great  drav 
nature,    and  m-.ide    to  bel  part  of  the  art  of  the  d: . 

Author  of  this  system,  which,  before  this  dis  e   hud  not 

lor  had  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  con- 
Co-  i~,  wi'hout  <l  ->ubt,  i :;  .k  of  nature,  all  the 

riful  simplicity  that  is  '   with  the  end  for  *«  liich  i; 

made.      IJut   if  we   hope   to  discover  how   nature    bungs  about  it- 

.   merely  from  this   principle,    that   it  operates   in  in- 
and  '  that  the  \\  is  lorn  oi' 

nature    is  :  >f  man,    than   in  m   is 

above  that  of  a  child.     (.V- 

lllus.  2.   It  w  ;,  for   nun.;  i   all   the  \ariety  of 

concrete  bodies  we  find  on  thi-  .  duciblc  to  four  elemt 

')f  \\  .-.npounded,  and  into  which  they  may  be  resol- 

ved.    It  was  the  simplicity  of  this  theory,    and    not  any  e\i<! 
from  fact,  that  made  for  the  more  it 

.".•omul  to  believe  it. 

Example.  The  P\  tl.agf.rian*  and  Pialonists  were  carried  farther 
by  the  same  love  of  simplicity.  P>  t  hagoras,  by  his  skill  in  mathe- 
red,  that  there  can  be  no  more  than  fi\e  regular  so- 
lid fi  ninated  by  plain  surfaces  which  are  all  similar  and 
equal  ;  to  wit,  the  tetrahedron,  the  cube,  the  octahedron,  the  dod- 
ecahedron, ami  the  eicosihedron.  As  nature  works  in  the  most 
simple  and  regular  way,  lie  thought  that  all  the  elementary  bodies 
must  have  one  or  other  of  tl,  :  and  that  the 
discovery  of  th  f  the  regular  solids  would 

tore, 

Obs.  1.  This  notion  of  '  1    Platonists  has  un- 

iiiil   simplieiiy.     Accordingly  it  prevailed, 

at  least  to  the  t  clid,     H-  >nic  philospher,  and 

i.d  to    have  written  all  the   books  of  his  Elements,  in  order  to 

discover  the   properties  and    relations  of  the    live   regular  solids. 

This  ancient  tradition  of  the  intention  of  Euclid  in  writing  his    le- 

juents,  is  countenanced  by  the  work  itself.     For  the  last  books  of 

iements  treat  of  the  regular  solids,  and  all  the  preceding  are 

subservient  to  the  last. 

'2.  So  that  this  most  ancient  mathematical  work,  which,  for  its 
admirable  composition,  has  served  as  a  model  to  all  succeeding 
writers  in  mathematics,  seems,  like  the  two  first  books  of  Newton's 
Principle  to  have  been  intended  by  its  author  to  exhibit  the  mathe- 
matical principles  of  natural  philosophy. 

lllus.  3.  It  was  long  believed,  that  all  the  qualities  of  bodies,  and 
all  their  medical  virtues,  were  reducible  to  four ;  moisture  and 
ess,  heat  and  cold  :  and  that  there  are  only  four  temperaments 
of  the  human  body  ;  the  sanguine,  the  melancholy,  the  bilious,  and 
the  phlegmatic.  The  chemical  system,  of  reducing  all  bodies  to 
salt,  sulphur,  and  mercury,  was  of  the  same  kind.  For 
divided  all  the  objects  of  thought  into  ten  categories,  and  all  that 
ran  be  affirmed  or  denied  of  any  thing",  into  five  universal^  or  pr«di^ 
cables.  (Kits.  2.  „*/*.  156.) 


1Q2  wf  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  in. 

4 SO.  (iv.)  One  of  the  most  copious  sources  of  error  in 
philosophy,  is  the  misapplication  of  INVENTION,  (which  Dr. 
Reid  calls  our  noblest  intellectual  power)  to  purposes  for 
which  it  is  incompetent. 

Illus.  1.  Of  all  the  intellectual  faculties,  that  of  invention  bears  the 
highest  price.  It  resembles  most  the  power  of  creation,  and  is 
honoured  with  that  name.  Yet  this  power,  so  highly  valuable  in 
itself,  and  so  useful  in  the  conduct  of  life,  may  be  misapplied;  and 
men  of  genius,  in  all  ages,  have  been  prone  to  apply  it  to  purposes 
for  which  it  is  altogether  incompetent. 

2.  The  works  of  men  and  the  works  of  nature  are  not  of  the 
same  order.     The  force  of  genius  may  enable   a  man  perfectly  to 
comprehend  the  former,  and  to  see  them  to  the  bottom.     What  is 
contrived  and  executed  by  one  man  may  be  perfectly  understood 
by  another  man.     With  great  probability,  he  may  from  a  part  con- 
jecture the  whole,  or  from  the  effects  may  conjecture  the  causes  ; 
because  they  are  effects  of  a  wisdom  not  superior  to  his  own. 

3.  But  the  works  of  nature  are  contrived  and  executed  by  a  wis- 
dom and  power  infinitely  superior  to  that  of  man  ;  and  when  men 
attempt,  by  the  force  of  genius,  to  discover  the  causes  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  nature,  they  have  only  the  chance  of  going  wrong  more 
ingeniously.     Their    conjectures    may   appear  very   probable   to 
beings  no  wiser  than  themselves ;  but  they  have  no  chance  to  hit 
the  truth...    They  are  like  the  conjectures  of  a  child,  as  to  how  a 
ship  of  war  is  built,  and  how  it  is  managed  at  sea.   (Ittus.  1.  Art.  71.) 

4.  The  slow  and  patient  method  of  induction,  the  only  way  to  at- 
tain any  knowledge  of  nature's  work,   leaves  little  room  for  the 
favourite  talent  of  invention.   In  the  humble  method  of  information, 
from  the  great  volume  of  Nature  we  must  receive  all  our  knowledge 
of  herself.     To  a  man  of  genius,  self-denial  is  a  difficult  lesson  in  phi- 
losophy as  well  as  in  religion.     To  bring  his  fine  imaginations  and 
most  ingenious  conjectures  to  the  fiery  trial  of  experiment  and  in- 
duction, by  which  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole,  will  be  found 
to  be  dross,  is  a  humiliating  task.     This  is  to  condemn  him  to  dig  in 
a  mine,  when  he  would  fly  with  the  wings  of  an  eagle. 

5.  In  all  the  fine  arts,  whose  end  is  to  please,  genius  is  deserved- 
ly supreme.   In  the  conduct  of  human  affairs,  it  often  does  wonders ; 
but  in  all  inquiries  into  the  constitution  of  nature,  it  must  act  a  sub- 
ordinate part,  ill-suited  to  the  superiority  it  boasts.     It  may  combine, 
but  it  must  not  fabricate.     It  may  collect  evidence,  but  must  not 
supply  the  want  of  it  by  conjecture.     It  may  display  its  powers  by 
putting  nature  to  the  question  in  well-contrived  experiments,  but  it 
must  add  nothing  to  her  answers. 

431.  (v.)  In  avoiding  one  extreme,  men  are  very  apt  to 
Fiish  into  the  opposite. 

Hliis.  1.  Thus,  in  rude  ages,  men  accustomed  to  search  for  natural 
causes,  ascribe  every  uncommon  appearance  to  the  immediate  in- 
terposition of  invisible  beings  ;  but  when  philosophy  has  discovered 
natural  causes  of  many  events,  which,  in  the  days  of  ignorance, 
were  ascribed  to  the  immediate  operation  of  gods  cr  demons,  they 


CHAP.  vn.  Of  Prejudices.  1$3 

are  apt  to  think,  that  all  the  phenomena  of  nature  may  be  account- 
ed for  in  the  same  way,  and  that  there  is  no  need  of  an  invisible 
Maker  and  Governor  of  the  world. 

2.  Rude  men  are  at  first  disposed  to  ascribe  intelligence  and 
active  power  to  every  thing1  they  see  move  or  undergo  any  change. 
Whenever  savages  see  motion  which  they  cannot  account  for,  there 
they  suppose  a  soul.  When  they  come  to  be  convinced  of  the  folly 
of  this  extreme,  they  are  apt  to  run  into  the  opposite,  and  to  think 
that  every  thing  moves  only  as  it  is  moved,  and  acts  as  it  is  acted 
upon. 

Carol.  Thus,  from  the  extreme  of  superstition,  the  transition  is 
oasy  to  that  of  atheism  ;  and  from  the  extreme  of  ascribing  activity 
to  every  part  of  nature,  to  that  of  excluding  it  altogether,  and 
making  even  the  determinations  of  intelligent  beings,  the  links  of 
one  fatal  chain,  or  the  wheels  of  one  great  machine. 

432.  (vi.)  Men's  judgments  are  often  perverted  by  their 
affections  and  passions.     This  is  so  commonly  observed, 
and   so  universally  acknowledged,   that  it  needs  neither 
proof  nor  illustration. 

II.  Prejudices  of  the  second  Class,  or  Idola  Specus. 

433.  The  Prejudices  of  the  second  class,  or  the  idola 
specus,  have  their  origin  in  something  peculiar  to  the  indi- 
vidual. 

(Jbs.  Ao  in  a  cave  objects  vary  in  their  at"'Poa**anro  a££o*difl£  to 
the  form  of  the  cave,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  receives  the  light, 
Lord  Bacon  conceives  the  mind  of  every  man  to  resemble  a  cave, 
which  has  its  particular  form,  and  its  particular  manner  of  being 
enlightened;  and,  from  tnese  circumstances,  often  gives  false 
colours  and  a  delusive  appearance  to  objects  seer>  in  it. 

Ilt-us.  1.  For  this  reason,  he  gives  the  name  oi'zdola  specus  to  those 
prejudices  which  arise  from  the  particular  way  in  which  a  man  has 
been  trained,  from  his  being  addicted  to  some  particular  profession, 
or  from  something  particular  in  the  turn  of  his  mind. 

2.  A  man  whose  thoughts  have  been  confined  to  a  certain  track 
by  his  profession  or  manner  of  Ijfe,  is  very  apt  to  judge  wrong1  when 
he  ventures  out  of  that  track.  He  is  apt  to  draw  every  thing1  with- 
in the  sphere  of  his  profession,  and  by  its  maxims  to  judge  of  things 
thi't  have  no  relation  to  it. 

Example  1.  The  mere  mathematician  is  apt  to  apply  measure  and 
calculation  to  tiling's  which  do  not  admit  of  it.  Direct  and  inverse 
ratios  have  been  applied  by  an  ingenious  aathor  to  measure  human 
affections,  and  the  moral  worth  of  actions.  An  eminent  mathema- 
tician, says  Dr.  Roid,  attempted  to  ascertain  by  calculation,  the 
ratio  in  which  the  evidence  of  facts  must  decrease  in  the  course  of 
time,  and  fixed  the  period  when  the  evidence  of  the  facts  on  which 
Christianity  is  founded  shall  become  evanescent,  and  when,  in  con- 
sequence, no  faith  shall  be  found  on  the  earth.  And  the  same 
ingv.  .or  adds:  "  I  have  seen  a  philosophical  dissertation, 

published  by  a  very  good  mathematician,  wherein,  in  opposition  ip 


194  •#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in. 

the  ancient  division  of  thing's  into  ten  categories,  he  maintains  that 
there  are  no  more,  and  can  be  no  more,  than  two  categ-ories,  to  wit, 
data  and  qusesita" 

2.  The  ancient  chemists  were  wont  to  explain  all  the  mysteries  of 
nature,  and  even  of  religion,  by  salt,  sulphur,  and  mercury. 

3.  Mr.  Locke  mentions  an  eminent  musician,  who  believed  that 
God  created  the  world  in  six  days,  and  rested  the  seventh,  because 
there  are  but  seven  notes  in  music.     Dr.  Reid  knew  one  of  that  pro- 
fession, who  thought  that  there  could  be  only  three  parts  in  harmo- 
ny, to  wit,  bass,  tenor,   and  treble  ;    because  there  are  but  three 
persons  in  the  Trinity. 

4.  The  learned  and  ingenious  Dr.  Henry  More  having1  very  elabo- 
rately and  methodically  compiled  his    Enchindium  Jlfetaphysicwn, 
and  Enchiridiiim  Ethzcum,  found  all  the  divisions  and  sub-divisions 
of  both  to  be  allegorically  taught  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis. 

Corol.  Thus,  even  very  ingenious  men  are  apt  to  make  a  ridicu- 
lous figure,  by  drawing  into  the  track,  in  which  their  thoughts  have 
long  run,  things  altogether  foreign  to  it. 

Illus.  3.  Different  persons,  either  from  temper  or  from  education, 
have  different  tendencies  of  understanding1,  which,  by  their  excess, 
are  unfavourable  to  sound  judgment. 

Example  5.  Some  have  an  undue  admiration  of  antiquity  and  con- 
tempt of  whatever  is  modern  ;  others  go  as  fir  into  the  contrary 
extreme.  It  may  be  judged,  that  the  former  are  persons  who 
value  themselves  upon  their  acquaintance  with  ancient  authors,  and 
the  latter  such  as  have  little  kno.vli-dge  of  this  ':'.,. 

6.  Some  are  afraid  to  venture  a  step  out  of  the  beaten  track,  and 
think  it  safest  to  go  wUh  the  multitude ;  others  are  fond  of  singulari- 
ties, and  of  every  tVrng  that  has  the  air  of  paradox. 

7.  Some  are  desultory  and  chayigeable  in  their  opinions;  others 

te  nacious.     Most  men  have  a  predilection  for  the  tenets  of 
or  party,  and  still  more  for  their  own  inventions. 

IIL     '  .-7"f/y '•/».?  of  the  third  Class,  or  Idola  Forl. 
434,  Y  fori  are  the  fallacies  arising  from  the 

e  of  language,  which  is  an  hi- 
nt as. well  as  of  the  communication  of  our 

77,.  effect  of  constitution  or  of  habit,  it  is 

per!  rniiae  ;    but,  from  One  or  both  of  these 

cans.  TiO  mail   car.  pursue  a  train  of  thought  or 

•  •s"  of  language.     (Art.  90.)     Words  are  the 

.s:    inJ  the  sign  is  so  associated  with  the  thing 

siisv.i-1  ust  can  hardly  present  itself  to  the  imagination, 

without  (:  other  along  with  it. 

vho  would  compose  in  any  language,  must 

tlunk  •••  tlr  u.-gTiage.  If  he  thinks  in  one  language  what  he 
would  sxpi  "  •  ii.i  another,  he  thereby  do-b-es  h'S  Voour,  and,  after 
all,  his  expressions  will  have  more  the  air  of  a  translation  than  of 
arigiiial  composition. 


O*£AP.  TII.  Of  Prejudices.  1$5 

Corol.  1.  This  shows,  that  our  thoughts  take  their  colour  in  some 
degree,  from  the  language  we  use  ;  and  that,  although  language 
ought  always  to  be  subservient  to  thought,  yet  thought  must  be 
sometimes,  and  in  some  degree,  subservient  to  language. 

Ilhts.  2.  As  a  servant  that  is  extremely  useful  and  necessary  to 
his  master,  by  degrees  acquires  an  authority  over  him,  so  that  the 
master  must  often  yield  to  the  servant ;  such  is  the  case  with  regard 
to  language.  Its  intention  is  to  be  a  servant  to  the  understanding ; 
but  it  is  so  useful  and  so  necessary,  that  we  cannot  avoid  being 
sometimes  led  by  it  when  it  ought  to  follow.  We  cannot  shake  off 
this  impediment,  we  must  drag  it  along  with  us ;  and  therefore 
must  direct  our  course,  and  regulate  our  pace,  as  it  permits. 

3.  Language  must  have  many  imperfections  when  applied  to 
philosophy,  because  it  was  not  made  for  that  use.  In  the  early 
periods  of  society,  rude  and  ignorant  men  use  certain  forms  of 
speech,  to  express  their  wants,  their  desires,  and  their  transactions 
with  one  another.  Their  language  can  reach  no  farther  than  their 
speculations  and  notions  ;  and  if  their  notions  be  vague  and  ill  de- 
nned, the  words  by  which  they  express  them  must  be  so  likewise. 

Corol.  2.  There  is  reason  to  hope,  that  the  languages  used  by 
philosophers  may  be  gradually  improved  in  copiousness  and  in 
distinctness  ;  and  that  improvements  in  knowledge  and  in  language 
may  go  hand  in  hand,  and  facilitate  each  other.  But  I  fear  the  im- 
perfections of  language  can  never  be  perfectly  remedied  while  our 
knowledge  is  imperfect. 

3.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  evident  that  the  imperfections  of 
language,  and  much  more  the  abuse  of  it,  are  the  occasion  of  many 
errors ;  and  that  in  many  disputes  which  have  engaged  learned 
men,  the  difference  has  been  partly,  and  in  some  wholly,  about  the 
meaning  of  words. 

Obs.  Mr.  Locke  found  it  necessary  to  employ  a  fourth  part  of  his 
Essay  on  Human  Understanding  about  words  ;  their  various  kinds  ; 
their  imperfection  and  abuse,  and  the  remedies  of  both  ;  and  has 
made  many  observations  upon  these  subjects,  well  worthy  of  the 
student's  attentive  perusal. 

435.  Barrpn  observes  most  justly,  that  infinite  almost  is 
the  variety  of  the  external  appearance  of  the  hitman  race, 
and  no  less  various,  perhaps,  are  the  constitutions  of  the 
minds  of  men.  For  this  reason,  unanimity  is  not  to  be  look- 
ed for,  even  concerning  business,  and  the  common  inter- 
course of  life,  far  less  concerning  speculative  tenets  of  diffi- 
cult conception,  probably  in  some  cases  of  exceptionable 
evidence. 

Illits-  1.  If  judgments  are  formed  by  candid  men  on  such  topics, 
they  will  be  different,  according  to  the  different  aspects  in  which 
the  objects  appear  to  their  respective  apprehensions.     No   ii 
venience  ensues  from  these  different  judgments,   either 
or  in  speculation,  if  men  are  animated   by  charity,  and  prop  r  re- 
apect  for  the  opinions  of  their  neighbours,  as  well  as  for  i.'ie;r  own. 
They  add  variety  to  conversation  and  to  action,  correspondent  to  the 


196  A  Grammar  of  fcogic*  BOOK  in, 

<• 

difference  which  nature  has  established  in  the  individuals  of  the 
species.  They  inspire  patience  and  toleration,  which  afford  exer- 
cise for  several  of  the  most  amiable  and  social  virtues. 

Corol.  1.  If  any  nation,  then,  or  large  society  of  men,  pretend  to 
be  unanimous  about  tenets,  speculative  in  their  nature,  and  remote 
from  vulgar  comprehension,  those  of  religion  itself  not  excepted, 
the  whole  almost  of  the  judgments  from  which  that  unanimity 
springs,  will  be  indigested,  if  not  inadequate  ;  that  is,  they  will  be 
the  judgments  of  teachers  or  leaders,  adopted  without  examination. 
The  greater  part  of  the  followers  are  incapable  of  forming  opinions 
fbr  themselves,  on  account  either  of  the  imbecility  of  their  faculties, 
or  the  abstract  nature  of  the  topics ;  and  of  course  their  assent, 
founded  on  pretended  judgment,  is  no  better  than  acquiescence  in 
the  judgments  of  those  they  revere,  concerning  subjects  which  they 
do  not  fully  understand. 

Illus.  2.  But  though  systems  of  established  tenets,  whether  politi- 
cal, philosophical  or  religious,  are  certain  sources  of  many  imperfect 
judgments,  and  should  be  embraced  with  caution ;  yet  in  some 
cases,  particularly  those  of  religion,  they  are  perhaps  necessary,  if 
not  altogether  harmless.  They  are  at  least  negatively  good ;  and 
if  they  do  not  keep  men  right,  they  often  prevent  their  going  farther 
wrong.  The  body  of  the  people  are  unqualified  to  judge  concern- 
ing the  theoretical  part  of  religion,  and  must  be  led  by  the  opin- 
ions of  men  they  account  wiser  than  themselves.  If  they  are  not 
guided  by  wise  and  good  men,  interested  and  designing  men  will 
take  the  direction  of  them.  If  decency  and  sobriety  are  not  honour- 
ed with  the  superintendunce  of  their  sentiments,  extravagance,  and 
violence,  and  enthusiasm,  will  assume  that  command.  Nobody  can 
doubt  of  the  propriety  of  giving  the  preference  to  the  former 
guides  ;  nobody  can  hesitate  that  the  peace  and  happiness  of  socie- 
ty require  this  preference  to  be  maintained  by  every  reasonable 
expedient. 

Corol.  2.  An  established  system  of  religious  faith,  then,  is  certain- 
ly the  combined  opinion  of  the  men  best  qualified  to  judge,  held 
forth  in  opposition  to  the  private  opinions  of  all  weak,  or  wild,  or 
wicked  men,  with  the  laudable  view  of  keeping  the  people  as  near 
the  truth  as  possible,  and  of  preventing  controversies,  which  are 
often  more  pernicious  than  even  heresies,  to  the  comfort,  to  the 
improvement,  and  to  the  virtue  of  society. 

436.  Education,  the  professed  purpose  of  which  is  to  lead 
us  to  the  temple  of  truth  by  the  easiest  and  shortest  road, 
will  not  readily  be  supposed  to  retard  or  embarrass  our  pro- 
gress in  that  course  in  which  it  pretends  to  be  a  guide.  It 
is,  however,  certain,  that  no  station  which  we  can  occupy,  no 
discipline  that  we  can  undergo,  is  more  frequently  prolific 
of  partial  judgments. 

Obs.  1.  In  all  periods  of  society,  the  greater  part  of  teachers  have 
been  more  concerned  to  inculcate  the  philosophy  of  their  sect,  or 
the  religion  of  their  church,  than  the  pure  doctrines  of  truth;  and 
the  inexperience  of  youth,  with  the  respect  they  naturally  entertain 


.  vn.  Of 'Prejudices.  19? 

for  advanced  years  and  superior  wisdom,  cannot  often  fail  to  render 
such  education  a  hot-bed  of  errors  and  prejudices.  History  and, 
experience  teem  with  examples  of  the  fertility  of  this  soil,  and  teach, 
in  the  strongest  language,  the  necessity  of  the  most  assiduoi; 
terition,  to  prevent  or  eradicate  the  plentiful  crop  of  noxious  plants 
with  which  it  is  in  hazard  of  being  over-run. 

2.  The  fundamental  error,  perhaps,  of  education,  has  consisted  in 
iddressing  truth,  whether  prudential,  moral,  or  philosophical,  to  the 
memory  rather  than  to  the  understanding.  It  is  commonly  suppos- 
ed, if  a  great  deal  of  information  be  lodged  in  the  mind,  and  com- 
mitted  to  the  custody  of  faithful  recollection,  that  it  will  prove  a 
plentiful  and  useful  magazine,  from  which  the  pupil  may  draw  with 
facility  and  advantage  every  supply  he  may  need  in  the  conduct  of 
.life.  But  it  is  unfortunately  forgotten,  that  accumulation  of  truth  is 
only  half  the  business  of  instruction,  and  is  not  even  the  more  im- 
portant half.  The  more  important  part  is  to  acquire  the  habit  of 
employing  to  some  good  purpose  the  acquisitions  of  memory,  by  the 
exercise  of  the  understanding  about  them  ;  and,  till  this  habit  be 
acquired,  these  acquisitions  will  not  be  found  of  very  great  use. 

Illus.  I.  With  regard  to  prudential  truth,  or  the  conduct  of  a 
pupil  respecting  his  instructors,  his  parents,  his  friends,  his  equals, 
his  attachments  and  amusements,  the  great  fundamental  rule  s< 
to  be,  that  good  behaviour  is  both  his  duty  and  his  interest,  and  that 
upon  his  observation  of  it  his  treatment  and  gratifications  will 
depend.  If  the  uniform  and  discreet  conduct  of  the  teacher,  or  the 
parent,  makes  him  consider  what  this  behaviour  is,  and  forces  him 
to  reason  about  the  practice  of  it,  he  will  be  happy  and  satisfied,  he 
will  be  attentive  and  civil  to  others,  and  lie  will  be  prepared  to 
judge  for  himself  in  the  conduct  of  life,  when  he  shall  be  obliged  to 
think  and  act  without  the  direction  of  his  early  guides.  But  if  he 
have  no  rule  of  conduct,  but  the  dictates  of  every  sudden  whim 
which  may  arise  in  his  own  fantastic  imagination,  or  which  the  oc- 
casional indulgence  or  severity  of  an  indiscreet  superintendant  may 
suggest,  his  conduct  will  be  the  result  of  foolish  attachments  or 
aversions,  of  caprice,  or  of  passion.  His  wants  will  be  multiplied 
beyond  the  bounds  of  nature,  and  the  circumstances  of  his  situation ; 
he  will  be  miserable  to  himself,  and  disgusting  to  others.  Advice 
and  instruction  will  have  with  him  no  useful  influence.  His  subjec- 
tion to  authority  will  be  his  utter  aversion,  because  it  interferes 
with  his  gratifications.  His  application  to  stud}'  will  be  disagree- 
able, because  he  has  no  conception  of  the  utility  of  knowledge. 
From  such  a  train  of  unfortunate  prejudices,  what  other  conduct 
can  ensue  than  that  which  we  often  survey  r  Namely,  a  headlong 
career  of  the  most  unlimited  gratification,  "as  soon  as  he  is  emanci- 
pated from  that  mortifying  restraint  from  which  IK-  lias  long  ami  so 
u-dently  wished  to  disengage  himself;  and  an  insurmountable  aver- 
sion to  every  path  of  inquiry  and  truth,  into  which  it  had  been  the 
purpose  of  education  to  lead  him. 

2.  The  history  of  Great  Britain  presents  two  striking  examples  of 
the  pernicious  effects  of  the  prejudices  of  education,  one  politic  .-J, 
and  the  other  religious.  Charles  the  First  lost  his  life  and  his  crown 
by  the  arbitrary  maxims  of  government  he  had  received  from  Irfs 

18 


198  ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  nt» 

ancestors.  James  the  Second  lost  his  crown  by  the  Popish  educa* 
tion  he  had  received  in  France.  Though  Charles  the  First  is  com- 
monly called  a  martyr  to  the  doctrine  and  worship  of  the  Church  of 
England,  and  is  accounted  by  the  vulgar  to  have  sacrificed  his  life 
In  defending  her  against  the  bigotry  and  violence  of  sectaries,  whose 
hatred  to  her  and  him  was  insatiable  ;  yet  it  is  well  known,  that  his 
attachment' to  that  church  was  neither  the  first  nor  the  chief  cause 
of  the  discontents  which  generated  and  prolonged  the  civil  war. 
Religious  jealousies  and  fears  were  then  employed,  as  they  have 
nften  been,  to  rouse,  and  irritate,  and  alienate  the  people.  But  the 
encroachments  on  property  contrary  to  law,  and  the  levying  of  mo- 
ney without  consent  of  Parliament,  alarmed  all  wise  men,  and  excited 
that  tremendous  spirit  of  resistance,  which  terminated  in  the  la- 
mentable fate  of  the  king,  and  the  destruction  of  the  constitution, — 
evils  that  seem  to  have  exceeded  in  magnitude  every  wish  or  con- 
ception of  the  patriots  who  first  opposed  the  arbitrary  measures  of 
the  crown.  That  Charles  knew  the  constitution  reprobated  the  le- 
vying of  money  by  his  own  authority,  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt; 
but  he  had  been  fatally  educated  in  principles  which  suggested,  that 
cases  of  necessity,  or  the  wants  of  princes,  were  superior  to  the 
constitution  or  the  laws;  and  that  if  Parliament  refused  to  grant 
what  supplies  he  thought  necessary,  a  case  of  necessity  took  place, 
a.nd  he  was  at  liberty  to  exert  his  sovereign  power,  to  provide  for 
the  salvation  of  the  state. 

•  3.  The  education  of  James  the  Second  in  France,  and  his  attach- 
ment to  the  Church  of  Home,  were  the  spring's  of  the  Revolution, 
:md  of  the  ejection  of  the  family  of  Stuart  from  the  throne  of  their 
ancestors.  Nothing  perhaps  but  the  bigotry  of  that  prince  could 
have  saved  the  liberties  of  this  country  from  extinction.  Could  he 
have  relinquished  his  attachment  to  the  Romish  Church,  could  he 
have  suspended  or  moderated  that  attachment,  he  might  have 
reigned  without  a  parliament,  and  trampled  on  the  laws  and  reli- 
gion of  his  subjects.  His  finances,  by  economy  and  good  manage- 
ment, were  in  perfect  order,  and  nearly  adequate  to  the  annual 
expences  of  government.  The  calamities  and  disasters  of  the  late 
civil  wars  M'ere  fresh  in  the  memories  of  men,  and  all  ranks  were 
reluctant  to  renew  them.  The  enthusiastic  spirit  which  had  in- 
flamed the  body  of  the  nation  against  his  father,  had  now  nearly 
spent  its  force,  and  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  success,  but  to  allow 
the  minds  of  men  to  cool,  and  to  habituate  them  to  the  slavery  that 
was  preparing  for  them.  The  blind  zeal,  however,  of  the  king,  and 
his  intemperate  attachment  to  his  religion,  for  the  happiness  of  this 
land  of  liberty,  hastened  every  event  to  a  crisis.  They  so  com- 
pletely disgusted  friends  and  enemies,  that  the  people,  with  the 
most  unprecedented  unanimity,  pushed  from  a  throne,  without  vio- 
lence or  convulsion,  a  monarch  and  a 'family,  who  would  have 
sacrificed  the  happiness  and  peace  of  a  great  nation  to  particular 
religious  tenets. 

IV.  The  Prejudices  of  the  fourth  Class,  or  Idola  ThcalrL 
437.  The  fourth  class  of  Prejudices  are  the  idola  thcatri, 
fry  which  are  meant  Prejudices  arising  from  the  systems  or 


*«AP.  vii.  Of  Prejudice.  199 

sects,  in  which  we'  have  been  trained,  or  which  we  have 
adopted. 

Illus.  1.  A  false  system  once  fixed  in  the  mind,  becomes,  as  it 
were,  the  medium  through  which  we  see  ohjects:  they  receive  a 
tincture  from  it,  and  appeal-  in  another  colour  than  when  seen  by  a 
pure  light. 

Example  1.  Upon  the  same  subject,  a  Platonist,  a  Peripatetic,  and 
an  Epicurean,  will  think  differently,  not  only  \\\  matters  connected 
with  his  peculiar  tenets,  b^t  ,  en  in  things  remote  from  them. 

Illus.  2.  As  there  are.  certain  temperaments  of  the  body  that 
dispose  a  man  more  to  one  class  of  disc-uses  than  to  another;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  M'  that  kind,  when  they  happen  by 

accident,  are  apt  to  induce  the  temperament  that  is  suited  to  them  ; 
there  is  something  analogous  to  this  in  the  diseases  of  the  under- 
standing. 

Examftb*  2.  A  certain  complexion  of  understanding  may  dispose 
a  man  to  o  of  opinions  more  than  to  another;  and,  on  the 

other  hand,  a  system  of  opinions,  fixed  in  the  mind  by  education  or 
otherwise,  gives  that  complexion  to  the  understanding*  which  is 
suited  to  tl. 

Illus.  3.  Party  spirit  induces  us  to  think,  that  all  our  friends  are 
men  of  discernment,  of  integrity,  of  generosity,  of  liberal  minds,  of 
impartial  views,  and  of  great  virtues.  The  case  of  our  antagonists, 
their  motives,  qualities,  and  conduct,  are  directly  the  reverse.  Their 
designs  are  the  result  of  imprudence,  folly,  or  iniquity.  Weak 
wickedness,  or  selfishness,  mark  all  their  plans,  and  disfigure  all 
their  operations.  They  inherit  no  spark  of  discretion,  enterprise, 
or  public  spirit.  Truth  is  thus  suppressed  or  misrepresented ;  and 
in  all  ets  of  contest,  there  will  not  be  found,  on  either  side. 

a  single  sound  or  impartial  judgment. 

4.  Religious    party-spirit,    in    former   ages,   chiefly   misled   and 
agitated  the  minds  of  men.     Happily  for  the  honour  and  peace  of 
the  present  age,  the  influence  of  this  most  malignant  disposition  is 
now  nearly  extinguished.     The   progress  of  truth  and  knowledge 
has  not  been  a  little  extended  and  accelerated  by  thisfortunatc  event. 

5.  Political  party-spirit,  however,   still  keeps  strong  hold  of  the. 
minds  of  men ;    and  the  misrepresentations   and  falsehoods    with 
which  it  corrupts  their  hearts,  and  misleads  their  judgments,  are 
sufficiently  discernible.     Did  not  attachment  to  party  blind  the  un- 
derstanding,  and  obliterate  the  feelings  of  modesty  and  candour, 
men  would  be  ashamed  of  the  contempt  or  neglect  with  which  they 
receive  the  plainest  truths.     On  some  occasions,  indeed,  this  spirit 
appears"  to  prompt  such  partiality,  as  not  only  despises  the  dictates 
of  truth  and  reason,  but  disregards  even  the  most  important  interests 
of  society  ;  provided  it  may  accomplish  its  favourite  objects  of  am- 
bition.    It  is  this  species  of  prejudice,  against  which,  in  this  island, 
it  is  particularly  necessary  to  fortify  the  mind,  because  the  tempta- 
tions to  indulge  it  are  very  strong,  while  its  effects  are  most  detri- 
mental to  public  prosperity  and  peace. 

6.  The  prejudices  of  fashion  seduce  and  pervert  all  mankind. 
Every  thing  experiences  the  influence   of  fashion.     All  ranks  are 
subjected  to  its  power.     Manners,  arts,  language,  dress,  air 


200  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  in, 

ments,  studies,  science,  even  laws  and  religion,  are  not  exempted 
from  its  sway.  Fashion  is,  on  many  occasions,  the  opinion  of  the 
majority  of  society,  or  of  the  more  illustrious  part  of  it ;  and  so 
ductile  are  the  minds  of  many  men,  that  they  consider  its  dictates 
MS  of  superior  authority  to  those  of  reason  itself.  (~See  Hlus.  Art 
240.^)  Of  all  our  prejudices,  however,  those  supported  by  fashion 
are  perhaps  the  most  justifiable,  at  least  they  are  often  the  most 
difficult  to  surmount.  In  all  matters  of  indifference,  it  would  seem, 
we  should  submit  to  fashion  ;  and  as  we  would  not  chuse  to  follow 
any  authority,  in  judging1  of  right  and  wrong,  so  it  appears  unrea- 
sonable to  be  singular  in  cases  where  neither  is  concerned. 

Coral.  The  prejudices  of  fashion  are  nearly  allied  to  those  of  au- 
thority. They  differ  only  in  the  extent  of  the  source  from  which 
they  are  derived.  Under  the  former,  we  are  guided  by  the  prac- 
tice or  opinion  of  the  great  body  of  the  people  ;  under  the  latter, 
we  follow  the  opinions  and  example  of  eminent  individuals.  Au- 
thority is  most  detrimental  to  all  inquiries  after  truth,  and  has 
perhap*  obstructed  more  the  progress  of  knowledge,  than  all  other 
s  conjoined.  It  has  infested  and  corrupted  the  investigations 
of  philosophy  in  all  ages.  Even  the  enlightened  spirit  of  the  pres- 
ent age  is  not  altogether  delivered  from  its  dominion. 

V.  Rules  to  prevent  Pnjn  /••  diirct  our  Judgments, 

438.  Rule].  Beware  of  precipitation,  and  never  decide 
concerning  the  tnnh  or  falsehood  of  any  proposition,  till  you 
have  ascertained,  l.v/.  Whether  the  words  accurately  ex- 
pnvs  the  ideas,  which  the  proposition  would  convey  to  your 
mind;  2,,/y.  Who: her  you  have  distinct  conceptions  of 
those  ideas;  S<//.y.  Whether  your  mind  is  divested  of  preju- 
dices ;  and  4thly.  Whether  you  have  fully  canvassed  the, 
evidence. 

Obs.  All  this  precaution  may  not  be  necessary  to  prevent  mis- 
take in  evert  judgment  we  form.  For  in  all  sciences,  arts,  and 
affairs,  we  pass  many  judgments  without  much  attention  or  pre- 
meditation, because  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas 
compared,  is  obvious  on  the  slightest  inspection.  But  when  the 
pursuit  of  truth  solicits  us  into  new,  and  perhaps  obscure,  paths  of 
inqu TV;  when  we  reach  judgments,  which  lead  to  inferences  ex- 
traordinary and  iiLirming;  or,  when  our  decisions  differ  from  those: 
of  men  eminent  for  capacity  and  discernment,  or  are  likely  to  involve 
us  in  controversy ;  we  should  reiterate,  with  patient  attention,  every 
precaution. 

Him.  1.  Such  a  practice  is  suitable  to,  and  is  demanded  by,  the 
character  of  a  candid  inquirer.  It  may  perhaps  retard  our  progress, 
but  it  will  cause  us  to  march  on  surer  ground.  It  will  habituate  oui 
minds  to  accuracy,  and  will  give  us  confidence  in  their  operations. 
It  w'-ll  save  the  irksome  sensation  which  results  from  the  detection 
of  precipitation  and  mistake  ;  and  it  may  prevent  much  trouble  by 
excluding  errors  from  theories,  which,  if  carelessly  or  rashly  over- 
looked in  their  principles,  may  lay  in  ruins  the  labours  of  D 
painful  hours. 


OHAP.  vir.  Of  Prejudices. 

Example.  The  most  patient  investigators  have  always  been  the 
most  successful  inquirers,  and  the  most  prudent  and  fortunate  men, 
have  generally  been  most  remarkable  for  the  candour  and  the  cool 
ness  of  their  understandings.  Two  of  the  greatest  philosophers  the 
world  ever  saw,  Lord  Bacon  and  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  are  in  nothing* 
so  much  superior  to  all  other  philosophers,  as  in  the  deliberation 
and  patience  with  which  they  proceeded  in  their  researches.  No 
confidence,  no  presumption,  no  vain  censure  of  the  precipitancy  of 
former  inquirers,  no  zeal  for  party,  no  partiality  to  system  or  au- 
thority, ever  mislead  their  minds,  or  disgrace  their  investigations. 
They  seek  truth  alone,  and  they  search  for  her  with  the  caution  of 
men  conscious  of  her  importance,  and  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  her. 
They  embrace  her  with  cordiality  wherever  they  meet  her,  but 
they  will  not  adopt  -  .  for  fact,  nor  be  satisfied  with  the 

semblance-  in  place  of  the  reality. 

Iltus.  2.  Prudent  judgment  in  business,  chiefly  distinguishes  the 
wise  man  from  the  fool.  The  fool  frequently  possesses  sensibility, 
vivacity,  recollection,  and  information.  He  is  often  in  these  articles 
superior  to  the  man  of  wisdom  and  discretion  ;  but  he  cannot,  or 
will  not,  make  a  pro  the  materials  he  bus  provided.  He 

fancie.s   id<  e  which    do    ii'<  cipi- 

tately  and  >;uluct  is  directed  by  his  judgments. 

His  opinions,  accordingly,  expose  him  to  ridicule  ami  contempt,  and 
his  actions  to  i\  .d  misfortune. 

3.  The  essence  of  wisdom,  on  the  other  hand,  consists  in  the 
passing  of  :i,  and  the  things,  about  \\h-ch, 

in  tli  life,  we  are  called  to  decide.     It  is  the  offspring  or 

companion  of  discernment,  and  discernment  is  nothing  more  than 
1hat  prudent  examin.  \  ious  to  judgment,  which  leads  us  to 

decide  according  to  truth.     The  wise  man,  it  is  said,  sees  farther 
into  futurity  than  other  men,   or  excels  in  the  faculty  of  anticipa- 
tion ;  but  this  superiority  is  an  evidence  only  of  the  accuracy  of  his 
iicnt  r.-lati\e  to  t.     He  supposes,  that  future  events 

'.iilar  circu1  '.- the  past.     His  conceptions  of 

the  past  are  accurate,  and  he  can  scarcely  err  in  his  opinions  of  the 
future. 

439.  Rule  2.  If,  after  employing  every  precaution,  you 
still  find  information  incomplete,  or  ideas  not  sufficiently 
clear,  suspend  judgment  till  farther  investigation,  or  greater 
experience  shall  qualify  you  to  decide. 

Obs.  This  rule  may  be  supposed  to  be  comprehended  under  the 
preceding;  because,  if  we  never  judge  with  precipitation,  we 
must,  eventually,  suspend  that  operation,  whenever  the  evidence  is 
not  satisfactory.  But  the  prudent  and  rational  conduct  which  this 
rule  inculcates,  is  so  momentous,  both  in  science  and  in  business, 
that  it  appeared  to  merit  a  separate  enunciation  and  illustration. 

llius.  1.   A  degree  of  indecision,  which  presupposes  a  doubt  of 
the  truth  of  every  proposition  we  have  not  examined,  is  requisite  to 
every    candid    inquirer.     But   hesitation   and  sus.p  ;nse  an-   \\ 
feelings  to  many  minds,  that  are  impatient  to  r.  rmin.aion. 

In  many  instances,  if  we  proceed  with  propriety,  we  must  observe 

18* 


£02  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  nr, 

the  necessity  of  suspense  of  judgment,  because  our  inquiries  termi- 
'Viate  in  subjects  beyond  our  comprehension.  Barren  considers  the 
cases  to  which  this  rule  especially  applies,  to  be  those  in  which 
judgment  comes  within  our  comprehension;  but  we  hesitate,  ei- 
ther because  ideas  are  not  sufficiently  distinct,  or  because  we  have 
not  discovered  the  intermediate  steps  which  shew  their  relation.  In 
such  cases,  a  candid  inquirer  must  suspend  judgment,  because  he 
can  do  nothing*  else.  Should  he  go  on,  it  is  perfect  accident  if  he 
reach  a  just  determination. 

2.  When  the  mind  is  embarrassed  and  perplexed,  it  is  often  pro- 
per to  relinquish  the  subject  of  inquiry  for  some  time  ;  and  to 
resume  it,  after  an  interval  of  other  employment.  Its  faculties  re- 
turn to  the  examination  with  new  vigour,  more  experience,  quicker 
discernment,  and  frequently  with  success.  But  the  more  common 
method  is,  to  pore  upon  the  topic  which  engages  attention,  and  in- 
stead of  seeking  for  intermediate  ideas,  if  it  be  a  subject  of  argu- 
ment, or  farther  information,  if  it  be  a  matter  of  fact,  the  inquirer 
retires  to  his  closet,  and  forms  theoriesvvvhich  have  no  foundation 
cdther  in  reason  or  in  truth.  This  spirit  is  fortunately  banished,  in 
a  great  measure,  from  the  regions  of  philosophy,  but  it  still  remains 
in  politics  and  in  business. 

Example.  Men  who  cannot  conduct  their  own  private  affairs,  are 
usually  expert  theoretical  politicians.  The  empiric  who  cannot  find 
a  panacea  for  his  own  disease,  sets  about  curing  the  maladies  of  the 
state.  A  theoretical  politician  is  exceedingly  wise  in  conversation, 
hut  his  speculations  are  rarely  verified  by  experience.  He  pro- 
ceeds on  fallacious  principles.  He  reasons  on  the  supposition,  that 
the  motives  and  conduct  of  men  are  what  they  should  be ;  or  that 
men  will  act  from  steady  principles  of  justice  or  interest.  But  the 
fur  greater  part  of  their  actions,  are  the  result  of  unaccountable  at- 
tachment or  passion,  of  fancy,  feeling,  whim,  caprice.  These  can 
make  no  part  of  any  theory,  because  they  transcend  all  rules  of  cal- 
culation, and  falsify  every  conclusion  founded  on  reason  and  common 
sense. 

Coral.  1.  A  man,  therefore,  who  wishes  to  gain  real  influence  in 
the  world,  will  never  rest  resolutions  on  speculation.  He  will  mix 
\vith  mankind,  and  accommodate  his  opinions  to  characters  and  cir- 
cumstances; and  if  these  lead  not  to  decision,  he  will  patiently 
suspend  judgment,  and  remain  inactive  ;  or  lie  will  act  so  ambigu- 
ously, that  he  may  avail  himself  of  better  information  when  it  shall 
occur. 

2.  Suspense  of  judgment,  at  least  suspense  in  uttering  judg- 
ments, if  they  contain  any  thing  harsh,  disagreeable,  unpleasant,  or 
even  unpolite,  is  particularly  necessary  in  all  good  company,  and 
among  all  men  of  knowledge.  Without  this  exercise  of  civility, 
we  cannot  expect  to  be  favoured  with  the  communications  of  supe- 
rior information.  We  cannot  render  ourselves  acceptable  to  those 
from  whom  we  may  derive  the  most  essential  benefits.  We  shall 
discompose  and  embarrass  delicate  society,  we  shall  be  exposed  to 
critical  reprehension,  or  involved  in  controversy,  the  bane  of  ail 
good  intercourse,  and  insuperable  impediments  in  the  acquisition  of 
truth. 

Illus.  3.  Modesty  in  judgment  is  peculiarly  graceful  and  promis- 
ing: in  voune:  incsulrers.  It  is  alwavs  interpreted  in  the  roost  fhvouv- 


PHAP.  vir.  Of  Prejudices.  £05 

able  sense  ;  as  a  mark  of  ingenuousness,  and  a  consciousness  of  the 
difficulty  of  attaining1  useful  knowledge  ;  dispositions  which  power- 
fully solicit  liberal  and  enlightened  minds  to  impart  important  aid. 
On  the  other  hand,  petulance,  forwardness,  and  presumption,  sub- 
ject young  inquirers  to  every  disadvantage,  and  to  many  mortifica- 
tions. They  alarm  men  of  superior  parts  and  improvement,  and 
render  them  averse  to  intimacy  with  persons  from  whom  nothing1  is 
to  be  expected  but  irritation  or  disgust.  They  bring  into  suspicion 
the  soundness  of  their  understandings  ;  so  that  these  can  hardly  ob- 
tain the  reputation  of  just  judgment  even  when  it  is  deserved. 

440.  Rule  3.  Always  remain  satisfied  with  the  evidence 
which  the  nature  of  a  proposition  admits;  because,  To  de- 
cide without  evidence,  is  weakness  and  absurdity — To  be 
satisfied  with  no  evidence,  is  scepticism — To  demand  the 
same  kind  or  degree  of  evidence  for  every  proposition,  is 
unnatural  and  unreasonable. 

Ilhts.  1.  The  propositions  of  science,  of  arts,  and  of  business,  arc 
supported  by  different  kinds  of  evidence.  No  candid  reasoner  will 
demand  the  same  species  of  evidence  for  them  all.  He  is  entitled  to 
no  other  than  the  nature  of  each  affords.  Few  subjects  admit  that 
complete  conviction  which  excludes  the  possibility  of  doubt.  The 
.router  part  present  only  higher  or  lower  degrees  of  probabihtv. 
Though  in  the  sciences  of  quantity,  the  mind  proceeds  on  the  firm 
ground  of  demonstration ;  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect  equal  satis- 
faction in  morals,  politics,  or  natural  history,  because  these  sciences 
are  incapable  of  such  evidence. 

2.  Moral  and  political  propositions  are  supported  by  evidence  de- 
duced from  the  human  constitution,  the  order  of  nature,  the  happi- 
ness of  individuals,  and  of  communities,  which  is  far  from  being  so 
conclusive  and  direct,  as  to  exclude  hesitation,  or  even  difference  of 
opinion:  yet  these  propositions  involve  truths  very  important  to 
mankind.  The  'rewards  or  punishments,  assigned  by  their  own 
minds,  by  the  opinion  of  their  fellow-creatures,  and  by  the  laws  of 
society,  depend  upon  them. 

Example.  In  natural  history,  which  furnishes  an  account  of  ani- 
mals, vegetables,  and  minerals :  in  geography,  which  supplies 
Instruction  concerning  the  surface  of  the  earth,  what  parts  are  co- 
vered with  land  or  water,  where  hills,  valleys,  capes,  cities,  are 
situated,  where  currents  run,  and  particular  winds  blow  :  in  civil 
history,  which  recounts  the  transactions,  opinions,  and  manners  of 
nations  in  former  times :  in  the  administation  of  justice  and  civil  go- 
vernment, which  applies  the  laws  of  the  community  to  the  actions 
of  individuals,  in  order  to  protect  the  lives  and  property  of  the  inno- 
cent, and  to  punish  the  guilty:  in  the  relations  we  daily  rece.vr- 
from  foreign  countries*  concerning  the  public  events  of  nations,  or 
the  industry,  customs,  and  sentiments  of  individuals  : — in  all  these 
cases,  we  must  depend  upon  the  evidence  of  testimony  ;  and  if  the 
information  be  not  in  its  nature  incredible,  and  we  have  no  reason 
to  question  the  veracity  of  the  relater,  we  ought  to  be  satisfied  with 
that  evidence. 

Him.  3.  Testimony  is  perhaps  among  the  least  satisfactory  chan- 
nels by  which  truth  is  conveyed  to  the  mind.  It  is  less  satisfactory 


204  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  1.11, 

than  those  of  intuition  and  reasoning*,  at  least  in  the  sciences  of 
quantity.  It  is  also  inferior  to  those  of  consciousness  and  sensation ; 
but  it  is,  notwithstanding',  of  high  importance  to  the  comfort, 
peace,  and  happiness  of  society.  No  inconvenience  results  from 
following1  it  with  discretion.  Were  it  rejected,  every  disorder  and 
danger  would  ensue.  Man  is  made  to  be  satisfied  with  it.  His 
situation  often  admits  nothing-  more  convincing-. 

Obs.  It  was  chiefly  to  vindicate  the  credibility  of  this  species  of 
evidence,  to  which  inquirers  sometimes  will  not  allow  the  influence 
it  deserves,  that  we  advanced  the  rule  under  consideration  ;  and  it 
may  not  be  improper  to  sketch  the  limits  within  which  this  evi- 
dence appears  to  be  unexceptionable. 

441.  The  first  thing  to  be  considered,  then,  is  the  nature 
of  the  relation  which  solicits  our  belief;  because,  if  it  be  in- 
credible, we  need  not  go  farther;  we  may  reject  the  testi- 
mony without  examination,  because  we  are  more  certain 
that  what  is  incredible   cannot  be  true,    than  we  can  be 
certain  of  the  truth  of  any  testimony. 

Illus.  A  relation  is  incredible  two  ways,  either  by. containing  an 
action  in  itself  impracticable,  or  by  containing  circumstances  con- 
tradictory to  one  another. 

I.  If,   for  instance,  we    were  told,  that  an   ordinary  man  bore  a 
mountain  on  his  back  from  Italy  to  France  ;  or  that  there  are  men 
in  the  world  who  believe  two  and  three  make  six  ;  we  would  re- 
ject such  relations  as  unworthy  of  the   least  credit,   because   they 
contain  actions  and  opinions  which  contradict  all  our  conceptions 
and  experience  of  human  powers  and  faculties. 

II.  If,   again,  a  relation  represent  the  performer  of  an  action  in 
different  places  at  the  same  time,   we  refuse  credit,  because  it   in- 
volves  a   contradiction,    and   supposes  the    co-existence  of  things 
which  we  know  to  be  impossible.     But  if  the  action  be  practicable, 
if  the  agent  be  adequate  to  the  performance,  and  if  the  account  be 
intelligible  and  consistent,  the  next  step  is  to  examine  the    nature 
of  the  testimony  ;  and  if  that  also  be   unexceptionable,  the  mind  is 
prepared  to  believe,  and  it  will  be  impatient  if  not  permitted  to  be- 
stow assent. 

442.  The  circumstances  of  inquiry  relative  'to  the  credi- 
bility of  the  testimony,  are,   1st.   Whether  the  relater  was 
fully  informed  of  the  nature  and  particulars  of  the  action; 
and,  Zdly.  Whether  he  could  be  seduced  by  any  temptation 
to  misrepresent  them. 

Him.  1.  The  article  of  full  information  may  be  subdivided  into 
several  other  inquiries  ;  whether  the  action  was  an  object  of  the 
senses  of  the  relater  ;  whether  he  had  full  time  to  examine  it,  and 
possessed  the  perfect  use  of  his  faculties  at  the  time  of  examina- 
tion ;  whether  he  examined  the  same  action,  or  similar  actions,  at 
different  times,  and  always  formed  similar  judgments  ;  and,  final- 
ly, whether  his  account  is  supported,  at  least  not  contradicted,  by 
other  accounts  of  credit. 

-2.  With  regard  to  the  character  of  the  relater,  we  have  reason  to 


CHAP.  vn.  Of  Prejudices.  £05 

rely  on  his  veracity,  if  we  have  no  cause  to  doubt  it ;  and  if,  at  the 
same  time,  marks  of  sincerity,  attention,  or  discernment  appear,  we 
cannot  demand  better  foundation  for  assent.  If  an  historian  be  ex- 
posed to  no  temptation  to  falsify  or  misrepresent,  we  suppose  that, 
lie  relates  the  truth  ;  because  it  is  much  more  easy  to  relate  truth 
than  to  relate  falsehood.  Truth  requires  no  anxious  caution  to 
preserve  consistency,  no  struggle  to  repress  the  remonstrances  of 
conscience,  which  even  the  most  abandoned  men  cannot  altogether 
silence.  It  follows  the  natural  and  consistent  train  of  causes  and 
effects.  It  presents  a  credibility  and  authority  which  command 
conviction. 

3.  But  if,   besides  a  general  attachment  to  truth,  we  discover  in 
an  historian  other  symptoms  of  integrity,    such    as   relating  truth 
when  it  was  his  interest  to  conceal  or  misrepresent  it,  when  it  might 
hurt  friends,  gratify  enemies,  or  expose  himself  to  danger  from  the 
resentment  of  those  whom  it  might  offend  ;  we  have  tiie   best  rea- 
son to  credit  his  testimony ;   because  he  HOC  only  great 
attachment  to  trath,   but   the  strongest   aversion  to  falsehood,  and 
evinces,  that  the  temptations  which  iiuluce  niL-n   of  little   virtue  to 
disguise  truth,  aml4hose  of  no  virtue  to  supprvs  it,  .do  no*  -fleet 
him.     He  is  at  least  sincerr,   and  his  testimom  wd, 
unless  it  can  be  proved  that  he  was  misinformed  or  uad  becu 
taken. 

4.  If  a  relation  be  consistent,    the  only   ground  for  charging  its 
author  with  mistake  or  misinformation,  is  its  contradiction  of  other 
accounts  of  credit,  or  its  containing  transactions  of  which  we  can 
explain  neither  the  motives  nor  tlie  manner.     If  two  historians  con- 
tradict one  another,  which  seldom  happens,  unless  in  cases  of  the  most 
violent  prevalence  of  party -spirit ;   the  evidence  of  both  will  be  de- 
stroyed, or  the  small  portion  of  credit  that  remains  will  operate  in  fa- 
vour of  the  more  respectable  author.     If  one-  author  omit  what  is  relat- 
ed by  another,  the  omission  may  excite  suspicion,  but  forms  no  -A 
argument  aga  nst  the   credibility  ;  because   many   ci  re  instances, 
unknown  to  us,  might  occasion  the  oversight  of  which  we  com  plain, 

5.  Neither  is  the  containing  of  transactions  of  which  we  cannot 
explain  the  motives  or  'he  manner,  a  good  argument  against  the  au- 
thenticity of  a  narrative  ;  because  the  deficiency  may  be  chargeable 
on  the  hearer  or  the  reader,  not  on  the  relater.     Men  of  all  ages 
measure  the  motives,  opinions,  and  actions  of  others,  however  dif- 
ferent from  themselves  in  constitution,  or  dissimilar  in  situation,  by 
their  own  ;  and  we  need  not  be  told,  that  nothing  can  be  more  fal- 
lacious than  such  a  standard.     A  remarkable  passage  of  history  may 
be  produced  to  illustrate  this  observation 

Example.  Herodotus,  in  travelling  to  collect  materials  for  his  his- 
tory of  Greece,  received  intelligence  that  some  Phoenician  sea- 
men had  embarked  on  the  Red  Sea,  sailed  round  the  south  coast, 
of  Africa,  and  returned  home  by  the  Columns  of  Hercules,  or 
the  Straits  of  Gibraltar.  In  which  voyage,  they  must  have  cir- 
cumnavigated the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  commonly  accounted  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  discoveries  of  modern  enterprise.  The  histori- 
an subjoins  his  own  opinion  ;  that  the  incident  was  incredible,  be- 
cause the  voyagers  reported,  that  in  some  part  of  their  navigations, 
they  had  beheld  the  ecliptic,  or  the  line  of  motion  of  the  sun,  situ 


£06  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iir. 

ated  to  the  north  of  the  zenith  of  their  course.  The  historian, 
however,  judged  by  a  false  standard  ;  he  condemned  as  incredible 
what  he  did  not  understand  ;  because  it  was  unknown,  perhaps, 
in  his  time,  that  the  appearance  specified  actually  takes  place,  in 
the  navigation  he  had  related.  He  reprobates  the  account,  for  a 
circumstance  which  is  the  most  plausible  characteristic  of  its  au- 
thenticity ;  for  it  could  hardly  be  supposed  to  have  been  conjec- 
tured unless  it  had  been  seen. 

Conclusion.  We  have  now  offered  every  rule  and  observation, 
which  appeared  of  importance  to  be  attended  to  in  forming  our 
judgments  in  science,  arts,  and  business — we  have  unfolded  the 
sources  of  those  prejudices,  which  obstruct  the  rectitude  of  our 
judgments — we  have  inculcated  patience  and  attention  in  forming 
them,  when  we  have  full  information — we  have  enjoined  suspense 
of  judgment  when  information  is  wanting  or  deficient — we  have 
recommended,  finally,  satisfaction  with  the  best  evidence  that  can 
be  procured,  and  the  propriety  of  judging,  and  acting  on  that  evi- 
dence— we  know  nothing  more  that  can  be  done  to  render  our  judg- 
ments sound  and  logical,  but  that  we  carefully  habituate  ourselves 
to  the  practice  of  these  rules. 

REMARK. 

Having  thus  far  conducted  the  pupil  through  a  popular 
course  of  INTELLECTUAL  PHILOSOPHY,  agreeably  to  the  doc- 
trines of  the  most  respectable  and  most  authentic  authors,  I 
take  leave  to  offer  him  a  word  of  advice  previously  to  his 
entrance  upon  the  remaining  portion  of  the  volume.  Logic 
is  neither  a  frivolous,  an  ostentatious,  nor  an  unnecessary 
branch  of  your  studies ;  but  she  pretends  not  to  make  me- 
chanical reasoners ;  she  pretends  only  to  lend  you  her  aid 
to  find*out  truth,  and  to  guide  the  exertions  of  your  own 
faculties  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  Her  pretensions  are 
at  least  commendable,  and  her  efforts  are  entitled  to  the 
most  patient  reflection  and  candid  examination.  If,  then, 
you  will  travel  in  the  road  that  leads  to  the  temple  of  truth,, 
if  you  will  employ  your  faculties  to  discriminate  that  celes- 
tial object  when-you  have  reached  her  sacred  mansion,  her 
handmaid,  Logic,  oilers  to  conduct  yon  thither;  you  have 
your  choice  then,  whether  you  shall  rem  tin  a  stranger  to  her 
power,  and  be  always  the  companion  of  those  whom  Preju- 
dice consigns  to  ignorance  and  insigniri  >  ce ;  or  press  on 
with  those  who  become  her  candidates,  who  are  grateful  for 
her  favours,  and  who  improve  them  for  their  advantage. 
Strive,  then,  my  friend,  to  obtain  the  flattering  distinction 
claimed  by  superior  judgment,  and  by  which  you  can  avoid, 
fte  disgrace  attached  to  ignorance  and  stupidity, 


GRAMMAR  OF  LOGIC 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  IDEAS. 

443.  THAT  the  young  logician  may  proceed  with  perspi- 
cuity, we  begin  with  examining  IDF. AS  as  existing  separate- 
ly, or  detached  from  one  another.  Ideas  as  the  impressions 
made  on  the  mind  either  by  external  objects,  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses,  or  by  the  consciousness  which  it  has 
of  its  own  internal  operations  have  been  defined  in  Articles 
34.  and  36. 

Him.  1.  When  an  external  object  presents  itself  to  any  of  the  five 
senses,  sight,  hearing",  taste,  touch,  smell,  some  picture,  or  notion, 
or  conception  of  it  is  formed  in  the  mind;  but  this  picture,  or  no- 
tion, or  conception,  is  totally  different  from  the  object,  and  is  called 
the  Idea  of  it ;  whereas,  the  object  is  called  the  Archetype  of  the 
Idea.  (Art.  38.  Illus.  1.  2.  3.) 

2.  By  sight,    we  receive  the  greatest  number,  and  the  most  lively 
of  all  our  Ideas  ;  as,  for  example,  those  of  all  the  visible  objects  in 
nature,  animated  and  inanimated,  with  which  we   are  already  ac- 
quainted, or  can  become  acquainted.     By  hearing,  we  get  Ideas  of 
natural  and  artificial  sounds,  particularly  of  the  sounds  of  language, 
and  the  important  information  which  they  convey.     The  Ideas  of 
the  other  three  senses,  taste,  smell,  touch,  are  not  nearly  so  numer- 
ous, and  they  relate  mostly  to  the  preservation,  or  the  comfortable 
subsistence  of  the  individual.     Ky  taste  and  smell,  we  are  directed  to 
those  aliments  which  are  necessary  and  salutary,  and  are  diverted 
from  those  which  are  hurtful  or  destructive.      By  the  touch,  we  ex- 
amine the  surfaces  of  bodies,  and  receive  all  those  Ideas  which  that 
operation  is  qualified  to  suggest.  All  the  Ideas  we  acquire  through 
the  medium  of  the  external  senses,  are  said  to  be  derived  from  sen- 
sation.    (Art.  41.)     The  only  other  source  of  Ideas  is  our  own  con- 
sciousness of  the  feelings  and  operations,  which  pass  within  our 
own  minds,  and  is  called  Reflection.     (Art.  50.  and  51.) 

3.  You  will  understand  what  is  meant  by  Reflection,  as  a  source 


£08  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic*  BOOK  iv", 

of  Ideas,  by  the  following-  examples.  Every  feeling-  or  operation 
of  the  mind  prompts  an  Idea  of  that  feeling1  or  operation  :  thus  tilt- 
Ideas  suggested  by  the  feeling's  of  fear,  joy,  hope,  or  by  the  opera 
tiuns  of  perceiving-,  arranging,  comparing-,  separating-,  and  com- 
pounding our  Ideas,  communicate  as  distinct  and  as  palpable  im- 
pressions, as  any  that  we  receive  through  the  medium  of  the  exter- 
nal senses.  But,  as  these  feeling's  and  operations  are  all  attended 
with  consciousness  or  consideration  passing-  within  the  mind,  the) 
are  therefore  called  Ideas  of  Reflection.  (Art.  88.  Illus.  1.  2,) 

444.  After  the  mind  has  been  replenished  with  IDEAS  in 
the  manner  now  explained,  it  begins  to  prepare  them  for 
the  purposes  of  Logic,  or  the  discovery  of  tnith  and  know- 
ledge.    It  arranges  them  into  CLASSES,  and  assigns  them 
different  names,  according  as  they  are  SIMPLE  or  COMPLEX, 

DISTINCT  Or  CONFUSED,  ADEQUATE  Ol*  INADEQUATE,  PARTIC- 
ULAR 01'  ABSTRACT. 

I.  Of  simple  and  complex  Ideas. 

445.  A  SIMPLE  IDEA,  as  its  name  imports,  can  be  con- 
U'mplated  only  in  one  view.     It  cannot  be  divided  or  taken 
to  pieces,  because  it  does  not  consist  of  parts,  being  natu- 
rally indivisible. 

I  Hits.  Most  of  our  Ideas  of  the  qualities  of  bodies  a»e  of  this  class, 
.is  hard,  soft,  round,  smooth,  white,  black,  cold,  hot  :  all  I 
perhaps,  of  tastes,  smells,  sounds,  as  bitter,  sweet,  low,  loud,  and 
many  of  our  Ideas  of  the  feelings  and  operations  of  the  mind,  as 
of  desire,  aversion,  hunger,  pain,  thinking-,  willing-,  discerning-, 
reasoning1,  are  also  of  this  class.  \Ve  cannot  divide  them,  even  iu 
imagination  ;  they  are  perfectly  uniform,  and  void  of  parts. 

446.  A  COMPLEX  IDEA  contains  two  or  more  simple  or 
subordinate  Ideas,  into  which  it  may  be  divided ;  and  these 
subordinate  Ideas,  when  divided,  may  be  considered  sepa- 
rately. 

Itlus.  All  our  Ideas  of  substances  are  complex,  as  of  animals,  ve- 
getables, and  the  inanimate  parts  of  nature.  The  Idea  of  a. tree, 
for  instance,  includes  a  great  variety  of  subordinate  Ideas,  as  those 
of  wood,  stock,  roots,  branches,  vegetable  life,  shape,  leaves,  bark, 
blossoms,  fruit ;  several  of  which  subordinate  Ideas,  may  be  subdi- 
vided into  other  Ideas.  All  [deas  of  figures,  as  of  circles,  squares, 
triangles,  -cubes,  cylinders,  pyramids  ;  most  of  the  Ideas  of  virtues 
and  vices,  as  of  justice,  fortitude,  veracity,  theft,  ingratitude,  false- 
hood, deceit. 

II.  Of  distinct  and  confused  Ideas. 

447.  The  second  division  of  Ideas  was,  into  distinct  and 
ronfused,  or,  which  is  inucii  the  same  thing,  into  dear  aud 


0HAP.  I«  Of  1> 

obscure.     l)i>  clear  Ideas  are  those  of  which  w<- 

have  a  full  and  perfect  comprehension,  and  which  we  can 
readily  separate  or  distinguish  from  all  other  Ideas.  Con- 
fused *or  obscure  Idea-  of  which  we  have  not  a  full 
and  perfect  comprehension,  and  which  we  cannot  ea-ilv 
separate  or  di-tinu;ui>h  from  all  other  Ideas. 

Illus.    Distinct  and  clear  Ideas  are  perceived  with  u  perspicuit\ 
and  ^  iilarto  that  by  which  the  mind  contemplates  figures 

in  mathematics,  or  numbers  in  arithmetic  ;  all  their  boundaries  and 
their  diiu  :  ernible.  Confused  or  <S\^ 

Id-.-as  :ire  like-  the  colours  of  a  rainbow;  they  run  into  one  another, 
and  the  mind  neitlu  ir  nature  nor  their  limits. 

448.  The  acquisition  of  clear  and  distinct   Ideas  is  of  the. 
utm<  Alienee  in  the  investigation  of  knowledge  ;  for 

the  d»'»-ive  of  cotti  it  is  presented  to  the 

mind,  is  always  in  proportion  to  the  decree  of  clearne<- 
and  distinctness  which  \ve  have  introduced  amonu;  our  M 

Ilhis.  \.  "Were  all  •  "ur  knowledge  would  !)-.• 

H  hich  belongs  only  to  our  scientific  know- 
to  all  our  ,  am! 

leaves  us  only  g  Probable    Kvi  ' 

'•ur  Ideas. 

r,d  in  Arithmetic,  the  ovid 

,  of  all  the  figures  and  run. 

m  are  perfectly  clear  aiul  distinct,  and  bc< 

disa.u 

ither,  KO  t!,.  .n,  rither  that  they  arc  equ 

' 

hi  Morals,  in  Polities,  in  Arts,  and  in   Husiness,  almost  all 
s  are  more  or  less  obscure  •   hence,  in  comparing  them,  v.  - 
not   precisely  pronounce   \vhcther  they   agree   or  disagree  ;    and 
hough  we  were  sure  that  they  disagree,  yet  we  cannot  accurate!} 
ascertain  the  difference. 

•of.  The  necessary  consequence  is,  that  in  all  these  braiv 
of  knowledge,  we  can  obtain  no  Demonstrative  Evidence  for  truth. 
We  must  be  satisfied  with  Probable  Evidence,  (Art.  309.  and 

.  v/e  should  be  attentive  to  procure  Ideas  as  clear  and  distinct  as 
possible,  that  we  may  reach  the  highest  degree  of  probability 
*irt.  440,  441,  a?/£/442.  with  all  their  Illustrations.) 

III.  Of  adequate  and  inadequate  Ideas. 
449.  The  third  division  of  Ideas  is  into  those  which  are 
ADEQUATE  or  INADEQUATE.     An  /Ifltquale  Idea  is  a  perfect 
picture  of  its  archetype,  or  contains  a  representation  of  all 
the  parts  of  which  the  archetype  consists. 

Jllu9.  1.  It  is  different  from  a  distinct  Idea,  because  an  Idea  may 
19 


Ji  Grammar  of  JLogic.  BOOK  IT> 

be  distinct  and  not  adequate ;  that  is,  we  may  have  a  clear  percep- 
tion of  all  the  parts  of  an  Idea,  as  far  as  these  parts  extend,  though 
these  parts  may  not  constitute  a  complete  collection  of  those  of  the 
archetype. 

Example  1.  We  may  have  a  distinct  Idea  of  a  triangle,  and  yet 
not  possess  an  Adequate  Idea  of  a  right  angled  triangle,  an  isosceles, 
or  scalene  ;  which,  besides  the  general  Ideas  of  three  sides  and 
three  angles,  require  that  the  sides  and  angles  should  be  of  a  parti- 
cular species. 

Illus.  2.  An  Inadequate  Idea  is  not  a  perfect  picture  of  its  arche- 
type, that  is  to  say,  it  does  not  contain  a  complete  representation  of 
the  parts  of  which  the  archetype  consists. 

Example  2.  Almost  all  simple  Ideas  are  adequate,  as  those  of 
colours,  tastes,  or  qualities  ;  all  ideas  of  mathematical  figures,  and 
of  numbers,  as  triangles,  squares*  cubes,  cylinders,  fifty,  a  hundred, 
a.  thousand,  ten  thousand. 

Illus.  3.  But  although,  when  we  examine  Archetypes  with  atten- 
tion, Ideas  will  be  as  adequate  as  we  can  make  them ;  and  when 
knowledge  is  either  demonstrative,  or  even  highly  probable,  Ideas 
must  really,  or  very  nearly,  be  adequate  j  yet  if  we  compare  Ideas, 
not  only  with  what  we  know  of  their  Archetypes,  but  with  what 
may  be  known  of  them,  few  of  our  Ideas,  except  those  of  mathema- 
tics and  arithmetic,  will  be  found  to  be  adequate.  There  is  hardly 
any  other  thing  in  nature,  of  which  our  knowledge  is  complete. 

Example  3.  We  are  acquainted  with  a  few  only  of  the  properties 
of  animals,  vegetables,  and  inanimate  matter ;  what  substance  is, 
whether  of  matter  or  spirit,  is  totally  beyond  our  comprehension 
C  Carol.  Art.  164J 

4.  The  whole  system  of  the  transmutation,  or  the  assimilation  of 
nature,  by  which  the  nutriment  of  animals  is  converted  into  the 
different  parts  of  which  their  bodies  consist,  bones,  flesh,  sinews, 
blood,  hair,  horn,  Sec.  and  by  which  inanimate  nature  is  converted 
into  the  numerous  parts  of  vegetables  and  metals,  seemingly  so 
different  from  one  another,  «as  trees,  shrubs,  leaves,  bark,  blossoms^ 
fruit,  gold,  silver,  mercury,  8cc.  is  to  us  altogether  unintelligible. 
(See  Art.  164.  Ittus.  1,  2,) 

Corol.  In  all  these  cases,  and  in  many  others  which  might  be  ad- 
duced as  examples,  our  Ideas  are  unavoidably  inadequate.  Our 
Ideas  are  less  adequate  than  they  might  be,  chiefly  from  two  cau- 
ses ;  first,  Careless?iess  in  the  examination  of  Archetypes,  which 
overlooks  some  of  their  properties  or  parts;  and,  secondly,  Inat- 
tention in  ascertaining  the  meaning  of  the  words  employed  to  de- 
note them,  which  words  often  do  not  express  the  same  parts,  or  all 
the  parts,  in  our  minds,  which  they  do  in  the  minds  of  others.  In 
both  cases,  our  knowledge  cannot  be  so  complete  as  that  of  a  per- 
son who  has  taken  care  to  prevent  these  errors  or  defects :  and 
in  every  discourse  or  controversy  with  that  person,  we  must  misun- 
derstand him  when  these  words  occur.  (Art.  86.  Ilhis.  1.  and  2.) 

IV.  Of  particular  or  abstract  Ideas. 
450.  The  last  distinction  of  Ideas  considers  them  as  PAR- 
TICULAR or  ABSTRACT.     This  is  the  most  important  distinc- 


.  Of  Ideas.  ill 

tion,  because  it  enters  deep  into  the  constitution  both  of 
language  and  knowledge.  All  things  exist  in  nature  as 
individuals  or  particulars. 

Example  1.  Every  substance  is  the  substance  of  some  particular 
animal,  vegetable,  mineral,  or  inanimate  piece  of  matter. 

2.  Every  quality  of  matter,  as  hard,  soft,  black,  white,  belongs  to 
some  substance  or  bod}-,  without  which  the  quality  cannot  exist. 

o.  Every  virtue  or  vice  has  always  relation  to  some  agent;  and, 
though  we  may  speak,  speculate,  or  reason  concerning  them,  sepa- 
rated from  this  agent,  yet  we  must  admit,  that,  independent  of  him, 
they  have  no  actual  existence,  nor  any  existence  except  in  Idea. 

451.  PARTICULAR  and  ABSTRACT  IDEAS  have  been  so 
fully  examined  in  Chapter  A  I.  Book  11.  under  the  subject  of 
Abstraction,  that  we  here  refer  the  student  to  that  part  of 
the  Grammar,  to  save  repetition, 

Obs.  We  have  now  explained  the  nature  of  Ideas,  and  the  divis- 
ions of  them  which  appeared  to  be  of  consequence  sufficient  to 
merit  attention;  but  as  this  Grammar  is  not  an  introduction  to  the 
idle  syllogism  of  the  schools,  but,  to  sound  reasoning  in  the  sciences, 
in  arts,  and  in  business,  and  us  Ideas  are  the  materials  of  all  reason- 
ing, before  we  relinquish  this  subject,  we  shall  point  out  the  most 
frequent  causes  of  their  imperfections,  and  endeavour  to  suggest  the 
best  means  of  preventing  or  removing  these  imperfections.  When 
we  know  the  causes  of  error,  the  road  to  truth  is  to  avoid  it.  When 
the  Imperfections  of  Ideas  are  removed,  they  of  course  become  clear 
and  distinct. 

V.   Rules  for  the  rfu^'hitlon  and  Examination  of  Ideas 

and 


Rtde  I.  Furnish  yourself  icith  a  rich  variety  of 
Ideas;  acquaint  yourself  with  things  ancient  and  modern; 
things  natural,  civil,  and  religious;  tilings  domestic  and 
national  ;  things  of  your  native  land,  and  of  foreign  coun- 
tries; things  present,  past,  and  future;  and,  above  all,  re- 
collect, that  "  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man."  Such 
a  general  acquaintance  with  things  will  be  of  very  great  ad- 
vantage. 

Illus.  1.  The  first  benefit  of  it  is  this  :  it  will  assist  the  use  of  rea- 
son in  all  its  following  operations^  it  will  teach  you  to  judge  of 
things  aright,  to  argue  justly,  and  to  methodise  your  thoughts  with 
accuracy.  WThcn  you  shall  find  several  things  akin  to  each  other, 
and  several  dissimilar,  but  agreeing  in  some  part  of  the  idea  you 
form  of  them,  and  disagreeing  in  other  parts,  you  will  range  your 
ideas  in  better  order,  you  will  be  more  easily  led  into  a  distinct 
knowledge  of  those  things,  and  will  obtain  a  "rich  store  of  proper 
thoughts  and  arguments  upon  all  occasions. 

2.  Another  benefit  of  it  is  this:  such  a  large  and  general  acquaint 


A  Gramma*'  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv, 

ance  with  thing's  will  secure  you  from  perpetual  admirations  and 
surprises,  and  guard  you  against  that  weakness  so  peculiar  to  igno- 
rant persons,  who  have  never  seen  anything1  beyond  the  confines  of 
their  own  dwelling-,  and  who  therefore  wonder  at  almost  even 
thing  they  see;  every  thing  beyond  the  smoke  of  their  own  chim- 
ney, and  the  reach  of  their  own  windows,  being  new  and  strange  to 
them. 

3.  A  third  benefit  of  such  an  universal  acquaintance  with  things, 
is  this ;  it  will  keep  you  from  being  too  positive  and  dogmatical, 
from  an  excess  of  credulity  and  unbelief,  that  is  to  say,  from  a  readi- 
ness to  believe,  or  to  deny  every  thing  at  first  hearing  ;  when  you 
shall  have  often  seen,  that  strange  and  uncommon  things,  which 
often  seemed  incredible,  are  found  to  be  true  ;  and  things  very  com- 
monly received  as  true,  have  been  found  false. 

Corol.  The  way  of  attaining  such  an  extensive  treasure  of  Ideas,  is, 
with  diligence  to  apply  yourself  to  read  the  best  books  ;  converse 
with  the  most  knowing  and  the  wisest  of  men  ;  and  endeavour  to 
improve  by  every  person  in  whose  company  you  are  ;  suffer  no 
hour  to  pass  away  in  idleness,  in  impertinent  chattering,  or  useless 
trifles:  visit  other  cities  and  countries  when  you  have  seen  your 
own,  under  the  care  of  one  who  can  teach  you  to  profit  by  travel- 
ling, and  to  make  wise  observations;  indulge  a  just  curiosity  in  see- 
ing the  wonders  of  art  and  nature  ;  search  into  things  yourselves, 
as  well  as  learn  them  from  others;  be  acquainted  with  men  as  well 
as  books  ;  learn  all  things  as  much  as  you  can  at  first  hand  ;  and  let 
•3  many  of  your  Ideas  as  possible  be  the  representations  of  things* 
and  not  merely  the  representations  of  other  men's  Ideas  :  thus  your 
soul,  like  some  noble  building,  shall  be  richly  furnished  with  origin- 
al paintings,  and  not  with  mere  copies. 

453.  Rule  II.  Use  the  most  proper  methods  to  retain  that 
treasure  of  Ideas  ivhich  you  have  acquired;  for  the  mind  is 
ready  to  let  many  of  them  slip,  unless  some  pains  and  labour 
be  taken  to  fix  them  upon  the  memory. 

JDirection.  And  more  especially  let  those  Ideas  be  laid  up  and 
m-cserved  with  the  greatest  care,  which  are  most  directly  suited, 
either  to  your  eternal  welfare,  as  a  Christian,  or  to  your  particular 
station  and  profession  in  this  life  ;  for  though  the  former  rule. recom- 
mends an  universal  acquaintance  with  things,  yet  it  is  but  a  more 
general  and  superficial  knowledge  that  is  required  or  expected  of 
any  man,  in  things  which  are  utterly  foreign  to  his  own  business; 
but  it  is  necessary  you  should  have  a  more  particular  and  accurate 
acquaintance  with  those  things  that  refer  to  your  peculiar  province 
and  duty  in  this  life,  or  your  happiness  in  another. 

Obs.  There  are  some  persons  who  never  arrive  at  any  deep,  solid, 
or  valuable  knowledge  in  any  science,  or  any  business  in  life, 
because  they  are  perpetually  fluttering  over  the  surface  of  things, 
in  a  curious  and  wandering  search  of  infinite  variety  ;  ever  hearing, 
reading,  or  asking  after  something  new,  but  impatient  of  any  labour 
to  lay  up  and  preserve  the  Ideas  they  have  gained  :  their  souls  may 
be  compared  to  a  looking-glass,  that  wheresoever  you  turn  it,  it.  re 
ceives  the  images  of  p,ll  objects,  but  retains  none. 


CHAP,  u  Of  Ideas. 

454.  In  order  to  preserve  your  treasure  of  Ideas,  and  the. 
knowledge  you  have  gained,  Dr.  Watts  advises  you  to  pin- 
sue  the  following  advices,  especially  in  your  younger  years?. 

Advice  1.  Recollect  every  day  the  things  you  have  seen,  or  heard,  or 
read,  which  may  have  made  an  addition  to  your  knowledge :  read 
the  writings  of  God  and  men  with  diligence  and  perpetual  reviews  : 
be  not  fond  of  hastening  to  a  new  book,  or  a  new  chapter,  till  you 
have  well  fixed  and  established  in  your  mind  what  was  useful  in  the 
last:  make  use  of  your  memory  in  this  manner,  and  you  will  sensi- 
bly experience  a  gradual  improvement  of  it,  while  you  take  care 
not  to  load  it  to  excess. 

2.  Talk  over  the  things  which  you  haw  seen,  he  irdt  or  learned, 
•with  some  proper  acquaintance.  This  will  make  a  fresh  impression 
upon  your  memory;  and  if  you  have  no  fellow-student  at  hand, 
none  of  equal  rank  with  yourself,  tell  it  over  to  any  of  your  ac- 
quaintance where  you  ran  do  it  with  propriety  and  decency  ;  and 
whether  he  learn  anything  by  it  or  no,  your  own  repetition  of  it 
will  be  an  improvement  to  yourself:  and  this  practice  also  will 
furnish  you  with  a  variety  of  words,  and  copious  language  to  express 
your  thoughts  upon  all  01  •cu.-.ions. 

Commit  to  writing  some  of  the  most  considerable  improve- 
ments which  you  daily  make,  at  least  such  hints  as  may  rccal  them 
i    to   your  mind,    when  perhaps  they  are  vanished  and  lost. 
And  here   [  think   Mr.  L'tck-^t-  method  of  adversaria,   or  common- 
,   which  are  described  in   the   end  of  the  first  volume  of  his 
posthumous  -works,  is  the  best ;  using  no  learned  method  at  all,  setting 
down  things  as  they  occur,  leaving  a  distinct  page  for  each  subject, 
and  making  an  index  to  the  pages. 

45J.  At  the  end  of  every  week,  or  month,  or  year,  you 
may  review  your  remarks  for  these  reasons  :  t//r.v/,  to  judge 
of  your  own  improveyiefU ;  when  you  shall  iind  that  many 
of  your  younger  collections  are  either  weak  and  trifling ;  or 
if  they  are  just  and  proper,  yet  they  are  grown  now  so  fa- 
miliar to  you,  that  you  will  thereby  see  your  own  advance- 
ment in  knowledge.  And  in  the  next  place,  what  remarks 
you  find  there  worthy  of  your  riper  observation,  you  may 
"note  them  with  a  marginal  star,  instead  of  transcribing  them, 
as  being  worthy  of  your  second  years  review,  when  the 
others  are  neglected. 

Obs.  To  shorten  something  of  this  labour,  if  the  books  which  you 
read  are  your  own,  mark  with  a  pen  or  pencil,  the  most  considera- 
ble things  in  them  which  you  desire  to  remember.  Thus  y*>u  may 
read  that  book  the  second  time  with  half  the  trouble,  by  glancing 
over  the  paragraphs  which  your  pencil  has  noted.  It  is  but  a  very 
weak  objection  against  this  practice  to  say,  I  shall  spoil  my  book  ,• 
for  I  persuade  myself,  that  you  did  not  buy  it  as  a  bookseller  to  sell 
it  again,  but  as  a  scholar^  to  improve  your  mind  by  it ;  and  if  the 


214  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv:/ 

mind  be  improved,  your  advantage  is  abundant,  though  your  book 
yields  less  money  to  your  executors.* 

456.  Rule  III.  *fts  you  proceed  both  in  learning  and  in 
life,  make  a  wise  observation  ivhat  are  the  Ideas,  what  the 
discourses  and  the  parts  of  knowledge  that  have  been  mon 
cr  less  useful  to  yourself  or  others. 

Obs.  In  your  younger  years,  while  you  are  furnishing*  your  mind 
with  a  treasure  of  Ideas,  your  experience  is  but  small,  and  your 
judgment  weak.  It  is  therefore  impossible  at  that  age  to  determine 
aright  concerning  the  real  advantage  and  usefulness  of  many  things 
you  learn.  But  when  age  and  experience  shall  have  matured  your 
judgment,  then  you  will  gradually  drop  the  more  useless  part  of 
your  younger  fumiture,  and  be  more  solicitous  to  retain  that  which 
is  most  necessary  for  your  welfare  in  this  life,  or  a  better.  Hereby 
you  will  come  to  make  the  same  complaint  that  almost  every  learned 
man  has  done  after  long  experience  in  study,  and  in  the  affairs  of 
human  life  and  religion  :  Alas  !  haw  many  hours,  and  days,  and 
months,  have  I  lost  in  pursuing  some  parts  of  learning,  and  in  reading 
svme  authors,  -which  have  turned  to  no  other  account,  but  to  inform  me 
that  they  were  not  -worthy  my  labour  and  pursuit  /  Happy  the  youth 
who  has  a  wise  tutor  to  conduct  him  through  all  the  sciences  in  the 
first  years  of  his  study ;  and  who  has  a  prudent  friend  always  at 
hand  to  point  out  to  him,  from  experience,  how  much  of  every 
science  is  worth  his  pursuit !  Happy  the  student  that  is  so  wise  as  to 
follow  such  advice. 

457.  Rule  IV.  In  endeavouring  to  attain  accurate  Ideas 
by  the  information  which  you  receive,  two  operations  are 
required,  first,  to  compare  Ideas  with  their  Archetypes; 
secondly,  to  compare. them  ivith  the  established  meaning  of 
the  words  by  ivhich  they  are  denoted. 

Obs.  We  need  not  employ  much  time  to  evince  the  necessity 
and  utility  of  this  rule.  Unless  accuracy  be  obtained,  all  our  labour 
and  search  are  in  a  great  measure  thrown  away.  If  the  foundation 
be  not  properly  prepared  and  secured,  the  superstructure  can  never 
be  finished  with  beauty  and  strength.  Inaccurate  Ideas  are  little 
better  than  no  Ideas ;  they  are  sometimes  worse.  In  respect  of 
every  deduction  resulting  from  them,  they  are  not  preferable  to  ig- 
norance, because  such  deduction  cannot  be  legitimate.  But  this  is 
not  their  only  inconvenience ;  they  lead  us  to  suppose  ourselves 
\vell  informed  when  we  are  not  so,  and,  of  course,  expose  us  to  all 

*  Note.  This  advice  of  writing,  marking,  and  reviewing  your  re- 
marksj  refers  chiefly  to  those  occasional  notions  you  meet  with  ei- 
ther hi  reading  or  in  conversation  ;  but  when  you  are  directly  and 
professedly  pursuing  any  subject  of  knowledge  in  a  good  system  in 
your  younger  years,  the  system  itself  is  your  commoii-place-book,  and 
must  be  entirely  reviewed.  The  same  may  be  said  concerning  any 
treatise  which  closely,  succinctly,  and  accurately  handles  any  parti.- 
;ular  theme. 


K  i,  Of  Ideas.  21 3 

the  mortification  which  attends  the  detection  of  error,  and  to  all 
those  irksome  contentions  which  arise  from  controversies  about  the 
meaning"  of  words. 

Ilhts.  1.  In  comparing  Ideas  with  their  Archetypes,  nothing1  more 
is  requisite  than  patience  and  attention  ;  for,  by  the  exercise  of  these 
qualities,  we  shall  render  our  Ideas  as  adequate  and  accurate  as  it  is 
in  our  power  to  make  them.  We  should,  for  this  purpose,  care- 
fully and  repeatedly  make  comparison,  particularly  of  Ideas  which 
lead  to  consequences  of  importance,  or  which  relate  to  topics  of  am- 
biguity or  difficulty. 

2.  Of  the  three  kingdoms  of  nature,  as  the  writers  on  natural 
history  express  themselves,  animals,  vegetables,  and  inanimate  mat- 
ter, the  objects  generally  remain  under  our  examination  as  long1  as 
we  please,  and  we  have  sufficient  time  to  attend  to  every  particu- 
lar necessary  to  be  known.     In  the   demonstrative  sciences,  also, 
Mathematics  and  Arithmetic,  our  Ideas  of  principles  at  least  will 
be  accurate  ;  and  it  is  seldom  that  our  conceptions,   even  of  proofs 
and  conclusions,  are  liable  to  ambiguity.     The  precise  and  defined 
nature  of  the  subjects  of  these  sciences,  the  simple  and  perspicu- 
ous language   in  which  most  writers  have  agreed   to  communicate 
them,  render  it  almost  impossible  for  a  reader  endowed  with  ordi- 
nary attention  not  to  comprehend  distinctly  the  sense  intended  to 
be  communicated. 

3.  It  is,  then,  in  the  sciences  susceptible  only  of  probable  proof, 
in  morals,  in  politics,  in  metaphysics,  in  writings  which  convey  mis- 
cellaneous truth,  as  history,   criticism ;  but  particularly  in  contro- 
versial writings,  and  in  conversation,  that  the  hazard  of  inaccurate 
Ideas  is  very  considerable,  and  the  probability  of  avoiding  them 
altogether  is.  exceedingly  small.     One  great  source  of  ambiguity,  in 
all  these  cases,  is  the  indefinite  nature  of  the   subjects,  and  the  dif- 
ferent aspects  under  which  they  appear  to  different  inquirers  ;  but 

the  greatest  source  is  the  unavoidable  ambiguity  of  language,  and 
the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  exactly  the  meaning'  of  words.  This 
double  indistinctness,  both  of  the  subjects  and  of  the  means  of 
communication,  cannot  fail  to  produce  important  consequences  in 
all  our  opinions  and  reasonings. 

VI.   Of  the  Ambiguity  of  Words. 

458.  Simple  Ideas  are  not  very  numerous,  and  they  are  cal- 
led simple,  partly  because  they  admit  no  divisions  into  parts, 
but  chiefly  because,  in  receiving  them,  the  mind  is  perfectly 
passive,  and  cannot  acquire  them  without  an  actual  survey 
of  the  external  objects  which  suggest  them,  or  an  actual  feel- 
ing of  the  mental  operations  which  produce  them. 

Example  1.  The  chief  simple  Ideas  are  those  of  the  au  ALLIES  of 
external  objects,  light,  colours,  tastes,  smells,  sounds;  those  of  the 
OPERATIONS  of  the  mind,  perception,  judgment,  reasoning,  willing  ; 
and  those  of  pleasure  and  pain,  power,  extension,  unity,  existence, 
which  are  derived  partly  from  the  SENSES,  and  partly  from 

TIQX. 


«1  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv, 

Ilhis.  There  is  no  method  of  conveying1  any  knowledge  of  these 
Ideas,  but  by  presenting-  their  archetypes  to  the  external  or  internal 
percipients  ;  and  if  a  person  be  deprived  of  any  of  the  senses  which 
should  convey  the  knowledge  of  them,  no  words,  no  signs,  no 
known  mode  of  communication,  can  supply  that  defect :  he  must 
forever  remain  in  ignorance. 

Example  2.  If  a  person  be  deprived  of  sig?it,  for  example,  he  must 
be  destitute  of  all  conceptions  of  light  and  colours.  If  he  require  an 
account  of  thinking  or  -willing,  of  pleasure  or  pain,  we  can  only  refer 
him  to  experience. 

Corol.  About  these  Ideas,  then,  no  controversy  can  exist;  because, 
as  nil  men  must  receive  them  from  their  archetypes,  all  men  must,  of 
course,  receive  either  the  same  impressions,  and  must  have  these  im- 
pressions constantly  suggested  by  the  words  allotted  to  denote 
them ;  or,  even  if  they  receive  impressions  in  a  manner  in  some 
respects  different,  they  must  speak  and  reason  about  them  as  if  they 
were  the  same ;  for  every  person  can  speak  and  reason  only  about 
the  simple  Ideas  in  his  own  mind. 

Example  3.  It  is  rcasonabe  to  believe,  that  the  Idea  of  the  colour 
denoted  by  the  word  %-rccn,  is  the  same  in  the  minds  of  all  men  :  but, 
though  there  were  some  difference  of  Idea  in  different  men,  yet  it 
could  not  perhaps  be  detected,  for  every  person  must  speak  and  rea- 
son concerning  that  colour  from  the  Idea  of  it  which  he  possesses. 

45V.  The  next  cia-s  of  IDK\S,  about  which,  and  the  words 
that  denote  them,  little  difference  or  ambiguity  can  take 
place,  consists  of  those  complex  Ideas,  v  hich  result  from 
mllections  of  simple  Ideas  of  the  satnc  kind.  These  are  re- 
moved the  first  step  from  simple  Ideas  ;  and  as  simple  Ideas 
are  clear  and  intelligible,  the  compositions  made  out  of  them 
partake  of  the  nature  of  their  constituent  parts,  and  are  like- 
wise clear  and  intelligible.  ^ 

Hhis.  The  two  sciences  susceptible  of  demonstration  present  col- 
lections of  such  Ideas,  and,  on  this  account,  among  others,  they  are 
•  •iipable  of  the  highest  species  of  evidence.  All  the  operations  in 
Arithmetic,  how  complex  soever,  exhibit  at  no  time  any  collections 
of  Ideas,  which  result  not  from  different  modifications  or  fractions 
of  'the simple  Idea  of  unity.  All  the  enunciations  and  demonstra- 
tions of  Mathematics,  how  compounded  and  refined  soever,  contain 
JIG  Ideas  which  are  not  formed  from  modifications  of  the  simple  Idea 
of  extension.  All  the  triangles,  circles,  squares,  and  parallelograms, 
about  which  the  mathematician  is  conversant,  exhibit  only  differ- 
ent views  and  modifications  of  the  same  simple  Idea  of  quantity.  A- 
bout  simple  Ideas,  of  course,  and  those  sciences  which  involve  com- 
binations of  them,  men  have  differed  very  little,  either  in  the  con- 
ceptifns  of  them,  or  in  the  language  by  which  they  are  denoted. 
(See  my  Grammar  of  Rhetoric,  Book  III.) 

460.  Thus  far  our  path  is  luminous  and  patent;  here, 
however,  the  field  of  perfect  light  terminates,  and  in  taking 
another  step,  we  find  ourselves  in  some  degree  of  darkness 


.  Of  Ideas. 

and  obscurity.  For,  when  we  enter  the  confines  oi'  the  oth- 
er science  -h,  politics,  crilicitsm — \\henwe  content 
plate  the  subjects  of  miscellaneous  knowledge,  oratory, 
poetry,  hislo.  — <T  attend  to  the  business  of  art* 
and  'common  life — \ve  immediately  encounter  COMI 

s,  comprehending  laru;e  Croups  of  xi'bordiiutte  Ideas, 

and  :  not  of  modifications  of  the  same 

but  of  combinations  of  ( 

•  ;c  and  partly  complex,  and  ue  find  it 

vunine  tlj  1  by  the-  \. 

.  a  word  in  even  bo<h  's  ni'iutl..  --nth*  arts, 

multiplicity  \\ '.. 

->  which  it    e\hibi«s.      When  applied  to  THVTIT, 
it  dc;  >n,  established  by  :i  clear,  b 

•ain  of  proof;  a-  whe:  .•//,  or 

: lit ff til    tlisct*rrri>.      When    :ipj)liedt«' 

:'//,    Jlt'uftJt. 

:i  bf autiful  woman  :   \vlitn  :«pplie<!    to     \nr>.,    it    includes  umf<>. 

'•,   \iliUty  ;   as  when    we    speak   of  a 

in  iV.-rjucr.t  use  :iniong- 1P.< 
genius,  ai.  >  illustrate 

unavoidably 
posed.     Taste  si^nif.  'lie  beauties  of  natur 

;s,  and  of'..  ->{'  the  inuit^ina- 

se  of  the  iindcrstandir.ic,  v.hich  i 

:u    Mid   properly    to    pri/e,  these    beuuties.     (.In.    270. 
1,2.) 

Jilus.  1.  It  is  plain,  that  much  ground  of  ditterenr  n  t he- 

nature  of  the  objects  of  this  internal  sense,  because  i-vc-iv  man  i 

•  from  the  state  of  his  own  faculties,  and  the  cultivation  of  the 
faculties  of  no  two  men, -perhaps,  is  entirely  equal.     Their  Ideas  of 
the  objects  of  ta»tc  mu:»t  share  a  similar  difference,  and   must  cov- 

;!ul  to  the  state  of  their  respective  faculties.  It  \\cre  easy  to 
multiply  examples  ;  but  it  will  appear  from  those  already  adduced, 
that  a  double  source  of  ambiguity  prevails  with  respect  to  the 
Ideas  and  the  toords  which  we  have  mentioned,  and  many  RIM 
milar  Ideas  and  words,  which  every  day  occur  in  books  and  in  the 
business  of  life. 

2.  The  Ideas  which  compose  a  COMPLEX  iy  be    dif- 

ferent in  different  men's  minds,  according1  to  the  improvement  of 
their  faculties,  or  their  powers  of  perception  ;  but  the  greatest  hazard 
of  error  results  from  tiie  inattention  with  which  the  complex  Idea 
may  be  formed. 

i'hus,   one   man   may  omit  some  of  the  Ideas  which 
.••ompose  the   rompte.r  ones  of  beauty  and  taste  ;  others  may  add  to 

i  more  Ideas  ihan  they  naturally  and  justly  contain. 
.  3.  Another  great  source  of  ambiguity  in  erery  inquiry  where 


£18  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

body  or  spirit  ts  concerned,  is  the  nature  of  substances,  whether  cor- 
poreal or  spiritual.  What  substance  is,  we  are  utterly  ignorant. 
(Art.  349.  Example  3.)  All  we  can  conceive  of  it  is,  that  it  supports 
qualities,  and,  of  course,  all  our  Ideas  of  substances  are  nothing 
more  than  collections  of  the  qualities  which  we  have  found  to  be- 
long1 to  them  respectively.  Now,  if  other  persons  form  not  the 
same  conception  with  us  of  any  of  these  qualities,  or  if  they  either 
add  to  their  number,  or  diminish  from  it,  it  is  plain  that  their 
complex  Idea  of  the  substance  can  never  agree  with  ours,  and  that 
in  all  communication  concerning"  it,  we  and  they  must  misunder- 
stand one  another.  (See  Chap.  IV.  Book  III.  Gram,  of  Rhetoric.) 

Carol.  From  these  Illustrations,  the  following  important  practical 
rule  will  be  allowed  to  result,  as  a  good  preservative  against  ambi- 
guity. 

461.  Pule  1.  In  all  cases,  when  COMPLEX  IDEAS  come 
under  our  consideration,  we  should  employ  every  precau- 
tion to  render  our  collection  of  the  constituent  Ideas  as 
complete  and  accurate  as  possible  ;  and  whenever  we  dis- 
cover that  our  reasonings  and  conclusions  disagree  with 
the  reasonings  and  conclusions  of  those  with  whom  we  con- 
verse, or  whose  books  we  read,  we  should  stop  and  re-exam- 
ine both  the  constituent  Ideas,  and  the  expression  of  them, 
because  it  is  possible,  that  in  the  re-examination,  we  shall 
discover  the  cause  of  the  difference. 

Khis.  1.  The  propriety  and  utility  of  every  part  of  this  rule  ap- 
pears so  obvious,  as  hardly  to  need  any  illustration.  Happy  had  it 
been  for  the  peace  of  society,  fortunate  had  it  been  for  the  progress 
of  knowledge,  if  it  had  always  been  punctually  practised.  All  those 
irritating1  and  frivolous  disputes  which  pester  conversation,  almost 
all  those  controversies  which  have  disturbed  and  detracted  the 
world,  would  have  been  prevented.  Consult  the  controversies 
which  have  involved,  not  individuals  only,  but  classes  and  periods 
of  learned  men,  and  you  will  find  that  they  have  originated  chiefly 
from  misapprehensions  of  the  Ideas  and  terms  which  furnish  the 
ground  of  the  difference,  and  that,  if  the  parties  had  exercised  any 
patience  and  pains  to  understand  one  another,  before  they  began 
to  dispute,  they  mig'ht  have  prevented  much  trouble  and  vexation 
to  themselves,  and  much  contention  and  disturbance  to  society. 
(See  Chap.  III.  Book  HI.  team,  of  Logic.) 

^  2.  The  famous  controversy  concerning  the  superior  merit  of  an- 
cient or  modern  learning,  which  interested  and  divided  almost  all 
the  learned  men  of  Europe  in  the  end  of  the  Seventeenth  and  the 
beginning  of  the  Eighteenth  century,  and  which  still  interests,  and 
sometimes  divides,  learned  men,  appears  a  pertinent  illustration.  It 
is  a  controversy  about  the  meaning'  of -words >  and  affords  very  little, 
ground  of  difference  of  opinion,  when  the  terms  are  fully  ascer- 
tained. The  parties  have  never  considered,  that  no  comparison  of 
authors  can  exist,  except  in  circumstances  perfectly  similar.  If  the 
state  of  ancient  society  gave  encouragement  to  some  efforts  of  gen- 
kis  and  industry,  which  arc  not  now  prompted  by  similar  incitements 


CHAP.  i.  Of  Ideas. 

can  we  wonder,  that  these  efforts  should  be  more  brilliant  in  theh 
former  situation  than  they  are  found  to  be  in  the  latter  .?  If  oratonj, 
statuary,  architecture,  and  perhaps-  poetry,  received  superior  coun- 
tenance and  patronage  in  Greece,  than  they  found  even  in  Rome, 
and  much  more  than  they  have  found  in  modern  times,  is  it 
not  natural  to  expect,  that  their  exhibitions  should  be  more  de- 
serving- of  appla*: 

3.  If,  on  the  other  hand*,  the  moderns  possess  superior  knowledge  of 
the  system  of  nature,  from  the  advantages  which  the  progress  of 
science  has  thrown  into  their  hands ;  if  the  improvements  of  govern' 
ment,  and  the  extension  of  refinement  and  knowledge,  have  led 
them  to  excel  in  politics,  in  moral  researches,  and  in  the  greater  part 
of  the  useful  arts,  can  we  be  surprised  at  their  superiority  ?  It  was 
impossible  that  the  moderns  could  rival  the  ancients  in  the  former 
case;  it  is  equally  impossible  that  we  should  not  rival  them  in  the 
latter.  The  superiority  in  the  one  case,  or  the  inferiority  in  the 
other,  neither  compliments  nor  impeaches  the  genius  of  either;  it 
is  the  natural  consequence  of  the  different  situations  of  human 
affairs,  and,  without  a  miracle,  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 
Had  the  keen  combatants  in  this  controversy  attended  to  this  natu- 
ral state  of  the  case,  they  would  have  avoided  their  ill-founded  and 
senseless  recriminations.  The  patrons  of  modern  literary  merit 
unjustly  measure  the  merits  of  ancient  genius  by  a  scale  adopted 
from  modern  ideas  and  manners;  the  patrons  of  ancient  genius  re- 
taliate the  same  charge,  and  pretend  to  determine  the  eminence  of 
modern  genius  by  a  scale  derived  from  the  ideas  and"  manners  ol 
ancient  times.  Let  these  reasonable  limitations  be  admitted,  and 
the  shadow  of  a  controversy  would  vanish  :  the  difference  would  at 
least  be  found  to  be  so  frivolous,  as  to  satisfy  every  man  of  the  ab- 
surdity of  the  contest.  (Chap.  VI.  Hook  ///.  Gram,  of  Rhetoric.} 

Note.  A  second  rule,  respecting  the  ambiguity  of  words,  is  cou- 
ched in  the  following  articl--. 

VII.  Of  Enumeration,  Description,  and  Definition. 

•462.  Rule  2.  After  ascertaining  the  amount  of  a  COMPLEX 
IKRM  by  enumeration,  by  description,  or  by  definition,  em- 
ploy it  always  in  the  same  sense,  without  adding  to,  dimin- 
ishing, or  changing  the  Ideas  it  denotes. 

IHus.  1.  ENUMERATION,  commonly  called  divisionby  logicians,  is 
a  recapitulation  of  the  subordinate  Ideas,  of  which  a  complex  Idea  con- 
sists, and  forms  a  very  satisfactory  method  of  explaining  or  ascer- 
taining that  complex  Idea. 

Example  1.  The  term  GRATITUDE  includes  the  following  subordi- 
nate Ideas ;  a  consciousness  of  favour  received,  a  disposition  to  ac- 
knowledge it  on  every  proper  occasion,  and  a  resolution  to  seize  thf> 
first  opportunity  of  returning  a  similar  favour  to  the  benefactor. 
HONOUR,  in  like  manner,  includes  an  unalterable  regard  to  truth  in 
words,  humanity  and  yenerosity  in  actions,  candour  <and  forgiveness  in 
thoughts,  and  resentment  of  insult  or  afrnnt. 

Iflus.  2  DESCRIPTION,  also,  is  a  sr  rt  of  enumeration*  but  is  appll- 


220  *%  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

cable  chiefly  to  objects  of  sight.  It  is  used  often  to  distinguish  ob- 
jects of  sight,  which  have  not  obtained  names,  or  of  which  the  mime* 
are  unknown.  We  describe  a  landscape,  a  river,  a  house,  a  town,  -a 
ship,  a  horse,  a  tree,  a  robber,  in  order  to  communicate  Ideas  of  these 
objects  to  thoseAvho  have  not  seen  them,  or  to  enable  those  to  dis- 
tinguish them  when  they  do  see  them.  Description  is  a  recapitula- 
tion of  the  parts  or  properties  of  the  object  described. 

Example.  .2.  A  LANDSCAPE  contains  corn-fields,  plantations,  water 
running  or  stagnating,  hills,  houses,  villages,  animals  ,  situate  in  such 
a  manner  as  diversify  it  from  all  other  landscapes.  The  colour, 
shape,  strength,  gentleness,  fieetness,  and  easy  motion,  which  consti- 
tute the  description  of  my  horse,  discriminate  him  from  all  other 
horses.  A  deserter,  or  a  robber,  is  described  by  his  stature,  figure, 
complexion,  features,  and  dress,  or,  in  other  words,  by  a  recital  of  the 
particulars,  which  form  his  appearance,  and  which  mark  him  out 
among  other  men. 

ll'iifs.3.  DEFIVITIOX  is  the  last  method  of  ascertaining  complex 
Itkati  or  general  terms,  and  differs  not  csentially  from  the  preceding 
net  hods.  The  chief  difference  is  the  use  of  it  on  different  occa- 
sions. It  may  be  employed  in  fixing  complex  Ideas  of  all 
whether  their  arc/.rlypes  are  objects  of  the  external  m  r.-vs,  or  are  the 
";res  of  reflection,  that  is,  whether  they  exist  in  matter  or  in  mind. 
It  is  used,  however,  chiefly  to  ascertain  species,  ivhote  archetypes  cz- 
;:;t  in  I  he  r 

•  ,»od  definition  consists  of  two  parts  ;  by  one  part  are  marked 
those  objects  with  which  the  tliin:>-  de*i;>ed  has  any  common  qualities  : 
by  the  Other  part  aiv  marked  those  qualities  which  characterize  the  thhij; 
defined  alone.  Nothing  moiv  can  be  done  to  ascertain  the,  nature  of 
tii\  object,  than  to  point  out  those  object*  with  which  it  has  any  com- 
•mr.i  Dualities,  and  next  to  enumerate  the  qualities  peculiar  to  itself. 
'Art.  28S.) 

Coral.  1.  Hence  the  logical  rule,  that  every  definition  should  con- 
sist of  n genus  and  a  specific  difference,  (*<irt.  179.  and  168.)  the  GKNUS 
denoting  the  common  qualities,  and  the  specific  difference  the  charac- 
; .ir  ones.     (Jlrt.  158.) 

/•'..cample  3.  Suppose  it  were  required  to  define  what  the  mathe- 
maticians call  a  square,  or  a  parallelogram,  these  most  acurate  of  all 
logicians  will  tell  us,  that  "  a  square  is  a  figure  which  has  four  equal 
sides,  and  four  right  angles,"  ami  that  "  a  parallelogram  is  a  four- 
>ided  figure,  of  which  the  opposite  sides  are  parallel."  (*irt.  170, 
Jllus.  and  Corol.) 

*-:liialyt:is.  The  things  defined  are  species,  that  is,  the  square  and 
•  he-  parallelogram  are  not  a  square  and  a  parallelogram  which  exist  in 
,<<imc  book,  or  are  dclmeated4on  a  particular  board  ;  they  stand  for  the 
entire  species  of  squares  and  parallelograms,  and  mark  the  proper- 
tics  common  to  all  the  individuals  of  these  species.  (»irt.  182.  Illns. 
ami  Corol.) 

The  first  part  of  the  definition  refers  them  to  their  genus,  or  cha- 
racterises them  by  the  name  of  figures,  by  which  it  is  signified,  that 
l hey  have  something  in  common  with  all  other  mathematical  species,  cir- 
cles, triangles,  rhombuses,  ellipses,  namely,  they  include  space,  nno 
vnded  by  lines. 


OKA  P.I.  Of  Ideas. 

The  second  part  of  the  definition  exhibits  their  specific  <:.  • 
or  enumerates  the  peculiar  proftcrties  -which,  distinguish  them  i'rcr., 
all  the  other  species  of  the  same  genus;  SQ.UARES  have  four  righi 
angles,  and  four  equal  .-ide.*  ,•    PARALLELOGRAMS  have  also%/b«r  an 
-md  four  sides  ;   but  their  specific  difference  consists  in  the  opposite 
.sides  being-  equal  and  parallel,  which  no  other  species  have  but 
themst 

imple  4.  If  we  define  ELOQ.VEXCE  to  be  the  art  of  speaking  or 
tiritinsr  well — i.<»r»ic  the  art  of  reasoning  well — STATUARY  the  art  of 
formi  -nblance  of  the  human  nhupe  in  marble — PAINTING 

tiie  art  of  delineating  a  resemblance  of  the  same  shape  on  can- 
means  of  oil  colours,   we  ivf«-r  all  these  species  to  their  genus,  and 
mark  properties  in  which  they  all  agree,  namely,  in  being1  arts,  acquir- 
ed by  industry  and  practice,  and  then  we  mention   the   properties 
which  distingu  M  all  other  arts,  and  from  one  another; 

KLO«U  r  writing  well;  LOMC  by  reasoning  wit ; 

nning  a  resemblance  of  the  human  shape  in  marble.  ; 
IWINTIM;  by  del  similar  resemblance  on  can 

5.  If,  again,   we  define  MOHU.ITY  to  be  I  which  te;i 

to  be  wise,  virtuous,  and  .'m/ipy — roi.iTrrs  the  science  which  teaches 

to/>?  -.•/  of  com*:.  •  neii — 

1 1 icli    teach  -pvte.  quantity — 

Veil  teach  '-Arties  of  spirit*,  < 

doctrine  ofjluid* — OPTICS  the  r.ddicr  which  teaches  the  thrnry  />; 
vision  and  colours  ;   \  II  these  branches  of  know!' 

to  tli  iify,  that  they  all  a 

in  pr  '.'  e  mind,  and  that  they  nre  s-ip- 

ported  by  tatitjactori  In  the  second  place,  we  distinguish 

•ice  from  the  rest,  and  from  all  other  sciences  not  mention- 

bove,  tlh  trutlis  which  itinculr 

(Example  S.'jrt.  304.) 

Illnx.  4.    DKI-IXITMI.X  might  certainly  be  employed  to  discriminate 
comple.c  Idrus  on  every  occasion,   -ind   migltt   supersede  both 
meration  and  description;   but  in  all  such  cases,   the  specif c  di 
ence  ivoultl  becnme  cither  an  enumeration  or  d 
is  no  material  difference  bct\v.  of  ascertaining 

S  except  in  the  length  of  the  specific  difi'eivnc".     An  enn: 
tion,  or  a  descr!.ptic;i,  ides  or  «;//.; 

Idea  explained  refers  ;  and  the  SPEC.IVH-  DIITER i:\ci;  of  cvcrv  u 
TION  is  either  an  enumeration  or  a  description. 

l-.r ample  6.  The  enumeration  formerly  advanced,  of  the  Ideas 
expressed  by  the  word  honour,  (Example,  Art.  462.)  ITI:  •. 
converted  into  a  definition,  of  which  the  specific  difference  will  be- 
come the  enumeration  itself.  "  Hnvom  is  a  disposition  which 
prompts  us  to  regard  truth  in  our  v-wv/.v,  generosity  in  our  actions, 
candour  in  our  thoughts,  and  to  entertain  resentment  of  insult  or 
affront"  hi  like  manner,  we  may  convert  the  description  of  a  horse 
into  it  definition,  of  which  the  description  will  constitute  the  specific 
difference.  We  may  call  him  an  ANIMAL  of  a  cylindrical  body, 
long  and  taper  legs,  high  neck,  beautiful  head,  of  gentle  temper, 
easy  motion,  and  fit  for  riding. 

Ittus.  5.  It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  when  the  specif"  'Uf> 
20 


•Z2&  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  ir, 

ference  resolves  itself  into  an  enumeration,  or  a  description,  it  is  of 
little  consequence  to  distinguish  the  genus.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  it  is  of  consequence  to  distinguish  the  genus,  the  specific  dif- 
ference seldom  consists  of  more  than  one  or  two  properties.  Defini- 
tion is  always  used  in  the  last  case,  and  enumeration  or  description 
in  the  two  first.  Enumeration  is  commonly  employed  to  explain 
complex  Ideas,  of  which  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  mention  the 
genus ;  description,  to  ascertain  complex  Ideas,  the  archetypes  of  which 
•ire  objects  of  sight  /  and  definition,  to  ascertain  the  abstract  Ideas  o/ 
species. 

Illus.  6,  With  respect  to  definition,   it  is  proper  farther  to  ob 
iitrve,  that  we  must  never  attempt  to  apply  it  to  simple  Ideas,  because 
they  are  immediately  derived  from  perception,  prompted  by  the 
objects  or  operations  which  suggest  them;  and  no  definition  or  ex- 
plication can  render  them  more  distinct  or  intelligible  than  they  are 
Even  the  mathematicians  have  not  always  been  sufficiently  attentive 
to  this  remark. 

Example  7.  The  word  ratio  denotes  the  Idea  of  equality  or  in- 
equality, which  results  from  the  comparison  of  two  magnitudes  of 
the  same  kind  in  point  of  quantity ;  as  when  one  of  the  magnitude* 
is  said  to  be  equal  to,  greater  or  less  than  the  other,  or  to  hold  to  it 
some  fixed  proportion.  (Example  I.  Art.  304.) 

Obs.  The  Idea  appears  to  be  simple,  at  least  no  words  can  make 
it  plainer  than  the  actual  comparison  of  the  magnitudes  by  which  it 
•is  prompted.  Yet  some  editions  of  Euclid,  which  we  have  seen, 
previous  to  the  one  published  by  Dr.  Simpson  of  Glasgow,  present 
the  following  definition  of  ratio.  "  Ratio,"  we  are  told,  "  is  a  habi- 
tude of  magnitudes  of  the  same  kind,  according  to  quantity."  Ha- 
bitude is  a  word,  which,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  unintelligible  as 
applied  to  ratio  ;  yet  it  seems  that  no  plainer  word  could  be  found. 
"Ratio,"  says  Simpson,  "  is  the  mutual  relation  of  two  magnitudes, 
of  the  same  kind  to  one  another,  in  respect  of  quantity."  (See  Illus. 
3.  Art.  304.) 

Example  8.  MOTION  is  another  simple  Idea,  on  which  ARISTOTLE,, 
and  the  SCHOOLMEN  after  him,  have  exercised  their  ingenuity,  and 
have  produced  the  following  famous  specimen  of  jargon.  They 
tell  us,  that  motion  is  "  actus  entis  in  potentia,  quatenus  in  poten- 
lia,"  the  act  of  being  in  energy,  as  far  as  it  is  in  energy.  Even  later 
philosophers,  who  define  motion  by  "  a  passag'e  from  one  place  to 
another,"  do  not  make  the  matter  much  plainer.  They  only  sub- 
stitute one  word  for  another,  and  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether 
motion  is  better  explained  by  passage,  or  passage  by  motion. 

Corol.  2.  As,  then,  COMPLEX  IDEAS  only  are  susceptible  of  explica- 
tion in  any  of  the  ways  which  we  have  mentioned,  if  we  would  pre- 
serve perspicuity,  careful  attention  must  be  paid,  that  the  same 
meaning,  thus  settled,  shall  be  invariably  retained.  The  deter- 
mination of  this  point  is  simple  and  easy,  and  may  always  be  accom- 
plished by  substituting  the  explication  in  the  place  of  the  term 
defined.  If  this  be  practicable,  and  the  sense  be  preserved,  we 
may  be  confident  we  have  not  changed  the  meaning  of  the  term. 
(Art.  167.  Illus.) 

Scl.rtium.  Before  we  relinquish  this  branch  of  the  subject,  it  i* 


ii.  Of  Propositions.  223 

proper  to  observe,  that  although,  in  compliance  with  the  example 
of  all  logical  writers,  we  have  considered  all  knowledge  as  compo- 
sed of  Ideas,  and  feel  even  disposed  to  call  every  impression  made 
on  the  mind,  whether  derived  from  an  external  or  an  internal  arche- 
type, by  this  name  ;  yet  these  impressions  have  obtained  other  names 
than  Ideas,  Thus  all  impressions,  prompted  by  archetypes,  which 
have  a  real  existence  -without  tlie  mind,  are  distinguished  by  the  name 
of  perception*.  {Art.  113.)  All  impressions  of  which  the  archetypes 
have  720  real  existence,  but  are  the  creatures  of  tlie  imagination,  as  ?» 
mountain  of  gold,  a  sea  of  milk,  are  denominated  conceptions.  (Art, 
140.  Jlius.)  Those  impressions  only  are  called  ideas,  which  have, 
been  formerly  received  into  the  mind,  and  are  again  recalled  by 
Memory.  You  will  find  this  explanation  useful  in  reading1  this 
drammar  as  well  as  some  Metaphysical,  and  even  some  Critical 
Writers ;  but  we  may  in  general  give  the  name  of  Idea  to  every  im- 
pression, whether  simple  or  complex,  and  from  whatever  source  il 
may  be  derived. 

Note.  I  am  aware  that  in  Chapter  VI.  Book  II.  some  portion  of 
the  reasoning*  advancrd  in  this  chapter  has  been  anticipated  ;  but 
the  subject  matter  of  that  chapter  could  not  be  discussed  w.tno.it 
anticipating  some  part  of  this ;  and  as  instruction,  not  p.duntry,  is 
the  object  of  this  Grammar,  the  logician,  prnpv.rK  •  "1 

approve  my  plan,  rather  than  join  in  its  < 

•spirit,  falsely  called  criticism,  so  current  among  thoa  unnc- 

.ted  with  the  disdv.n-ge  of  scholastic  duties,  would  "  put  oki 
heads  on  young  shoulders." 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  PROPOSITIONS, 

463.  ALL  that  we  have  hitherto  advanced  in  this  Book,  is 
a  mere  preparation  of  the  materials  of  Logic  ;  and  we  have 
to  apply  these  materials  to  the  investigation  of  truth  and  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge. 

Ittus.  The  investigation  of  truth  and  knowledge  consists  of  two 
operations;  one  which  compares  two  Ideas,  or  one  pair  of  Ideas  to- 
gether, in  order  to  perceive  in  them  agreement  or  disagreement ; 
another  which  compares  two  Ideas  by  the  help  of  one  or  more  in- 
termediate Ideas.  The  truth  or  knowledge  acquired  by  the  first 
operation  is  said  to  result  from  Judgment,  (See  Art.  26.)  ;  the  truth 
or  knowledge  acquired  by  the  second  operation  is  said  to  result  from 
Reasoning,  (drt.  294.) 

I.  Knowledge  and  Truth. 
4.64.  What  is  knowledge?  and,  What  is  truth?    We 


2£4  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i\. 

are  familiarised  with  these  words,  and  are  not  disposed  tc 
suspect  any  mystery  in  their  meaning.  Their  meaning, 
however,  is  not  so  obvious  as  is  generally  supposed  ;  and  it 
is  of  so  much  importance  in  our  present  inquiry,  that  we 
rannot  proceed  without  attempting  to  ascertain  it.  (JZrt* 
*502.  /.  //.  Cowl) 

llhis.  1.  KNOWLEDGE,  then,  in  a  logical  sense,  is  the  perception  of 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  Ideas  with  one  another ;  THUTH 
-is  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  Ideas  with 
words.  But  what,  it  will  again  be  asked  perhaps,  is  the  significa- 
tion of  these  words,  agreement  and  disagreement  ?  The  signification 
of  these  words  is  not  always  the  same,  but  varies  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  science,  the  art,  or  the  subject,  about  which  the  Ideas 
arc  employed.  (Art.  295.  Illus.) 

.Example  1.  In  Arithmetic  and  Mathematics,  the  only  comparison 
of  Ideas  which  can  take  place  relates  to  the  equality  or  inequality  ot" 
die  quantities ;  agreement  denotes  equality,  disagreement  inequality 
Thus,  when  we  compare  the  quantities  four  and  five,  we  perceive 
that  they  are  unequal,  or  that  the  Ideas  of  them  disagree.  We  per- 
ceive farther,  if  we  add  one  to  four,  that  these  two  together  form  a 
compound  quantity,  which  will  be  exactly  equal  to  Jive,  or  that  the 
Idvusfour  and  one  conjoined  will  agree  with  the  Idea^re. 

Corol.  1.  Our  knowledge,  then,  that  four  is  not  equal  toji-ve,  but 
that  four  and  one  arc  equal  to  Jive*  is  the  INTUITIVE  PERCEPTION 
which  we  have,  that  the  Idea  of  four  disagrees  with  the  Idea  of  Jvoe9 
while  the  Idea  tf  four  and  on?  together  agrees  with  the  Idea  off  five. 
(Corol.  1.  Art.  293.) 

Example  2.  In  like  manner,  from  the  Ideas  which  we  have  of  a 

right  angle  or  half  a  right  angle,  or  from  the  Ideas  which  we  have  of 

an  acre,  and  ht  If  an  acre,  which  we  know  certainly,  that  the  half 

\vth,  or  is  a  less  quantity  than  the  whole  right 

,  that  the  half  t-.cre  d;sagrees  with,   or  is  a  less  quantity  than 

acre  :    and  that  if  we  double  the  half  right  angle  and  the 

snail  form  two  compound   quantities,  the   Ideas  of 

pectivcly  with  those  of  the  whole  right  angle 

.  le  .uTf. 

Ylu-    perception  cf  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
..11  these  cases,   is  the  same  thing  with  the   knowledge  of 
She  equality  or  inequality  cf  the  quantities  compared. 

ampf&3\  If,  in  natural  philosophy,  we  compare  body  or  mat- 

\  itb  divisibility,  we  immediately  discover  that  divisibility  applies 

to  matter,  or  is  a   property  of  it ;  in  other  words,  we  find  that  the 

Idea  of  matter  and  divisibility  agree  together,  and  we  know  that 

matter  is  divisible. 

Olis.  Agreement,  in  this  case,  signifies  property  or  relation,  not 
equality,  as  in  the  preceding  cases. 

Example  4.  If  we  maintain  in  morals,  that  a  good  man  is  happy  ; 
or  in  politics,  that  a  wise  king  is  a  blessing  to  his  people  ;  or  in  arts, 
that  industry  is  commonly  attended  with  success, 

Corol.  3.  Our  knowledge  of  all  these  maxims  is  perfectly  the 


CHAP.  ii.  Of  Propositions.  225 

same  thing  with  the  agreement  which  we  perceive  between  the 
Ideas  of  a  good  man,  and  happiness  ;  of  a  wise  king",  and  the  hap- 
piness of  his  people  ;  of  industry,  and  the  acquisition  of  wealth. 

Illus.  2.  (I.)  TRUTH  relates  to  the  enunciation  of  knowledge,  and 
is  the  agreement  of  Ideas  with  -words.  Thus,  if  we  assert  that  the 
British  is  a  free  government,  and  that  the  English  are  more  indus- 
trious than  any  other  nation  in  Europe,  we  maintain  truth,  because 
our  words  actually  corespond  to  accurate  Ideas  of  the  facts.  If 
again,  we  say,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two 
right  angles,  we  express  a  truth,  because  it  is  demonstrable  that 
our  -words  and  our  Ideas  agree. 

II.  Falsehood,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  disagreement  of  -words 
with  Ideas  ;  when  it  is  asserted,  that  the  British  government  is  des- 
potic, or  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  three  right 
angles. 

III.  A  MISTAKE  is  the  disagreement  of  words  with  Ideas,  when 
we  suppose  that  they  agree. 

IV.  The  ignominious  falsehood  called  a  lie,  is  the  disagreement 
of  words  with  Ideas,  uttered  with  an  intenion  to  deceive.     (»SVe  my 
Grammar  of  Rhetoric,  Ch.  V.  B.  ///.) 

Jllus.  3.  KNOWLKJH;E,  further,  is  of  two  kinds,  certain  and  probable. 
Certain  knowledge  is  that  which  the  mind  has  when  it  is  perfectly 
satisfied  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  Ideas.  Probable  know- 
ledge is  that  which  the  mind  has  when  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  Ideas  is  not  so  clear  as  to  afford  entire  satisfaction.  The 
degrees  of  probability  are  also  greater  or  less,  according  as  the  sat- 
isfaction is  more  or  less  peifect.  (Art.  310.  Ilhis.J 

II.  Different  Kinds  of  Propositions. 

465.  In  judging  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
Ideas,  we  examine  them  in  pairs,  and  the  words  in  which 
we  express  that  Judgment,  form  a  sentence  called  a  PROPO- 
SITION.    (Jllus.  Art.  29.) 

Illus.  For  example,  if  the  Idea  of  a  whole  be  compared  with  the 
Idea  of  Apart,  it  is  immediately  found  that  they  disagree  ;  and  this 
Judgment  is  expressed  by  the  following  proposition  :  "  The  whole 
is  greater  than  any  of  its  parts."  But,  if  the  Idea  of  the  whole  be 
compared  with  the  Idea  of  all  its  parts  taken  together,  it  is  found  that 
they  agree ;  and  this  Judgment  is  expressed  by  the  following  pro- 
position :  "  The  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts  taken  together." 
(IUU8.  2.  Art.  306.) 

466.  If  the  agreement  or  disagreement  be  perceived  by 
bare  juxta-position  of  the  Ideas,  without  the  intervention  of 
any  intermediate  Idea,  the  evidence  of  the  proposition  is 
said  to  be  intuitive.     (Corol.  Example  1.  Jlrt.  464.)    But  if 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  be  perceived  by  means  of 
some  intermediate  Idea,  or  train  of  Ideas,  the  mind  then 
must  proceed  by  step?,     (rfrt.  298.  Obs.). 

20* 


226  &  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i,v> 

Illus.  It  must  compare  the  first  Idea  of  the  proposition  with  the 
first  intermediate  Idea,,  and  pass  a  judgment  on  their  agreement  or 
'disagreement.  (Jlrt.  464.  Illus.  1.)  It  must  next  compare  the  first 
intermediate  Idea  with  the  second  intermediate  Idea9  and  pass  a  similar 
judgment.  It  must  proceed,  in  like  manner,  through  all  the  inter- 
mediate Ideas,  and  pass  similar  judgments,  till  it  comes  to  compare 
the  last  intermediate  Idea  with  the  latter  Idea  of  the  proposition ; 
and  from  all  these  intermediate  judgments,  the  conclusive  judgment 
is  deduced,  concerning  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  two 
primary  Ideas  of 'the  proposition.  ("Art.  244.  Example.}  In  this 
case,  the  evidence  of  the  proposition,  declarative  of  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  the  two  primary  Ideas,  is  said  to  be  founded  on 
reasoning.  (~Art.  280.  Ittus.  and  Examples.} 

Corel.  It  hence  appears,  that  all  knowledge,  whether  the  off- 
spring of  intuition,  or  the  result  of  reasoning,  fe  denoted  by  proposi- 
tions, which  express  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  Ideas ;  that 
each  proposition  contains  two  Ideas,  simple  or  complex,  besides  the 
assertion  of  agreement  or  disagreement;  and  thut  the  proposition 
which  denotes  agreement  may  be  called  affirmative,  that  which 
denotes  disagreement  may  be  called  negative.  "  That  the  three 
angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles,"  is  an  affirmattvt: 
proposition ;  and  "  that  a  part  is  not  equal  to  the  whole,"  is  a  negative 
proposition.  ("Art.  465.  Ilhis.} 

467.  The  two  capital  Ideas  constitute  two  parts  of  a 
Proposition.     The  first  Idea,  or  sometimes  several  Ideas 
considered  as  one,  is  that  of  which  something  is  affirmed  or 
denied,  and  is  therefore  called  the  subject  of  the  proposition. 
(Art.  159.  Illus.  I.)  ;  the  second  Idea,  or  sometimes  seve- 
ral Ideas  considered  as  one,  is  the  property,  or  quality,  or 
attribute,  which  is  either  affirmed  or  denied  to  belong  to,  or 
to  agree  with,  the  first  Idea,  and  is  therefore  called  the 
predicate  of  the  Proposition.     (Art.  152.  Illus.  2.) 

Example.  "  The  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right 
angles,"  is  a  proposition,  of  which  the  Idea  of  the  three  right  angles 
forms  the  SUBJECT,  and  the  Idea  of  equality  to  tivo  right  angles  forms 
the  PREDICATE.  The  affirmation  contained  in  the  word  are  is  com- 
monly called  by  logicians  the  copula  or  connective  of  the  Proposi- 
tion. (Illus.  Art.  281.) 

468.  Propositions,  farther,  are  distinguished  by  different 
names,  according  to  the  clearness  of  the  evidence  by  which 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  subject  and  predicate 
is  evinced.     (Art.  288.; 

Illus.  1.  If  the  evidence  be  perfectly  satisfactory,  the  proposition  is 
denominated  certain.  (Illus.  2.  Art.  309.) 

2.  If  the  evidence  be  not  perfectly  satisfactory,  it  is  denominated 
probable  ;  and  it  is  more  or  less  probable^  according  as  the  evidence 
is  more  or  less  satisfactory.  ("Art.  309.  Illus.  l.J 

3,  If  the  evidence  for  the  agreement  of  the  subject  and  predicate 


CHAP.  ii.  Of  Propositions.  Z&7 

balance  the  evidence  for  their  disagreement,  the  proposition  is  called 
doubtful. 

4.  If  the  evidence  be  stronger  on  the  side  of  disagreement,  it 
gets  the  name  of  improbable ;  and  the  improbability  will  be  the  great- 
er, as  the  evidence  of  disagreement  shall  increase. 

5.  If  the  proposition  bear  an  affirmation  contrary  to  Ideas,  it  ob- 
tains the  name  of  false.  (Ilhis.  3.  Art.  278.) 

6.  If  the  affirmation  be  conformable  to  Ideas,  it  is  denominated  true. 

469.  Propositions,  also,  arc  divided  into  universal,  par- 
ticular, singular,  indefinite,  conditional,  and  relative.  (See 
Art.  449,  450,  451.) 

Ilhis.  1.  An  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITION  is  that  whose  subject  com- 
prehends an  entire  genus  or  species. 

Example  1.  Thus,  "All  animals  are  endowed  with  life  and  organ- 
ization," is  an  universal  proposition,  because  the  subject  of  it  in- 
cludes, and  the  predicate  applies  to,  all  living  creatures,  or  to  atohole 
genus.  (Art.  158.  ///MS.) 

2.  "All  men  are  liable  to  err,"  is  another  universal  proposition, 
because  the  subject  includes,  and  the  predicate  applies  to,  a  vtfck 
species,  or  every  individual  of  the  human  race. 

lllus.  2.  A  PARTICULAR  PROPOSITION  denotes  a  limited  or  partial 
meaning  of  the  subject,  or  signifies  that  it  does  not  include  an  en- 
lire  genus  or  species ;  and,  in  this  case,  the  restricting  words,  some, 
few,' many,  See.  usually  precede  the  subject  of  the  proposition. — 
-  \lrt.  159.  lllus.  J 

Examples.  "  Few  men  spend  their  time  to  the  best  advantage," 
— "  Many  men  repent  of  their  folly  when  it  is  too  late," — are  both 
particular  propositions,  because  they  include  a  pail  only  of  the  hu- 
nan  species,  to  which  th€y  refer. 

lllus.  3.  A  SINGULAR  PROPOSITION  has  an  individual  for  its  subject. 

Examples.  "  Alexander  conquered  the  Persians," — "  Caesar  was 
nssassinated  in  the  senate -house." 

4.  An  INDEFINITE  PROPOSITION  relates  to  one  individual  among 
many,  and  is  commonly  introduced  by  the  indefinite  article. 

Examples.  "  A  wise  man  guides  his  affairs  with  discretion  ;"  "  A 
t ''ml  is  perpetually  betraying  his  ignorance  and  impudence." 

>.  A  CONDITIONAL  PROPOSITION  expresses  condition  ordependance. 

Example^.  "  If  people  break  the  laws,  they  will  be  punished." 

6.  A  RELATIVE  PROPOSITION  denotes  consequence  or  connection, 

Example^.  "Though  he  fall,  yet  will  he  rise  again."  But  the 
distinctions  under  lllus.  5  and  6,  seem  to  belong  rather  to  grammar 
than  to  logic. 

470.  PROPOSITIONS  sometimes  receive  different  names, 
according  to  the  kinds  of  evidence  by  which  they  are  sup- 
ported. The  chief  of  these  kinds  receive  their  names  from 
the  evidence  furnished  by  sensation,  consciousness,  intui- 
tion, reasoning,  and  testimony  ;  and  it  is  of  consequence  to 
consider  propositions  with  regard  to  these  kinds  of  evidence, 
because  they  lead  us  to  the  chief  sources  of  human  know- 
ledge. 


*#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv- 

Ilhis.  By  the  external  senses  we  are  made  acquainted  with  all 
the  objects  in  nature,  which  can  contribute  either  to  our  use  or  to 
our  pleasure  ;  and  of  all  the  propositions  derived  from  the  testimo- 
ny of  these  senses  and  feeling's,  we  never,  in  the  intercourse  of 
life,  presume  to  entertain  the  slightest  doubt.  (Art.  100.7taw.291.) 
We  believe  that  the  city,  the  house,  the  man,  the  horse,  the  tree, 
the  fish,  that  we  behold,  really  exist,  and  possess  those  properties 
or  qualities  which  we  perceive  to  belong-  to  them.  (Art.  120.  Jllus. 
and  Corol. J  We  never  hesitate,  whether  the  propositions  con- 
taining" the  result  of  our  perceptions  respecting  them  are  true. — 
(~Jlrt.  116.  Ill-US.  1.  andS.J  We  hesitate  as  little  about  proposi- 
tions significant  of  the  reality  of  our  bodily  feelings,  and  of  our  de- 
sires to  gratify  them  ;  such  as,  that  hunger,  thirst,  pain,  are  uneasy 
sensations,  from  which  all  men  wish  to  be  relieved,  and  that  rest 
after  fatigue  is  a  source  of  pleasure.  (Art.  112.  Ilhis.  1,  2,  3,  4,  5, 
6,  7  J 

Corol.  In  all  these  cases,  no  means  of  conviction  are  presented  to 
the  mind,  besides  perceptions  and  feelings.  The  knowledge,  ac- 
cordingly, derived  from  this  source,  is  often  called  the  dictates,  of 
sense  ;  and  the  sentences  that  denote  this  knowledge  arc  sometimes 
termed  sensible  propositions.  (.fr*.  290.  Jllus.  6.  Corol.) 

HI.  Sources  of  Human  Knowledge. 
471.  I.  MENTAL  FEELING,  or  CONSCIOUSNESS,  is  a  copi- 
ous source  of  knowledge,  and  furnishes  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  a  numerous  class  of  propositions.  By  conscious- 
ness we  gain  an  acquaintance  with  the  human  constitution, 
particularly  with  the  important  operations  of  the  under- 
standing, the  imagination,  and  the  passions.  (See  Chapter 
L  Book  II.) 

Ilhis.  1 .  If  you  affirm,  that  your  imagination  is  pleased  with  a  fine 
prospect,  a  beautiful  landscape,  an  elegant  exhibition  of  art,  whether 
in  writing,  painting,  sculpture,  or  architecture  ;  if  you  assert,  that 
your  understanding1  is  delighted  with  the  discovery  of  truth  on  all 
subjects,  and  in  all  degrees,  from  the  lowest  degree  of  probability 
to  the  most  satisfactory  evidence  of  intuition  or  demonstration ;  if 
you  maintain  that  all  your  passions  were  given  you  for  wise  and 
good  purposes;  that  all  the  gratifications  of  them,  within  the  limits 
prescribed  by  reason  and  by  virtue,  are  pleasant,  salutary,  and  com- 
mendable ;  and  that  all  irregular  gratifications  are  in  themselves  not 
only  improper,  but  also  painful  and  destructive  ; — you  have  hardly 
any  proof  to  produce  of  the  numerous  propositions,  which  express 
the  various  cases  into  which  these  views  of  the  human  mind  may  be 
resolved,  except  an  appeal  to  the  consciousness  of  the  person  whom 
you  wish  to  convince.  (See  Art.  24.) 

2.  Should  you  affirm  that  your  imagination  is  not  captivated  with 
a.  beautiful  scene  of  nature  or  art;  should  you  declare  that  your  un- 
derstanding receives  no  pleasure  in  the  discovery  of  truth,  or  that 
the  gratification  of  a  regiilar"passion  yields  you  no  joy,  while  the 
agitation  of  an  irregular  one  fills  you  with  satisfaction ;  all  I  can 


.ii.  Of  Propositions.  229 

urge  is,  that  you  mistake  your  constitution,  or  that  its  structure  is 
different  from  the  constitution  of  most  other  men;  and  if  you 
persist  in  maintaining1  the  consciousness  of  the  truth  of  what  you 
r,  I  can  only  oppose  a  contrary  consciousness  on  my  part.  \Ve 
must  continue  of  opposite  opinions,  for  I  can  advance  no  arguments 
*u  persuade  you  to  adopt  my  no* 

Carol.  1.  From  this  view  of  knowledge  it  will  appear,  that  many 
1  and  political  propositions,  many  too  which  communicate  truth, 
in  oratory,  poetry,  criticism,  and  bu.~  rincipally,  if  not  en- 

,  supported  by  consciousn 

l&M*.  ,K   If  you  assert,  that  all  men  applaud  a  generous  or  a  grate 
ful  action,  and  detest  an  unjust  or  a  cruel  one;  that  kings  aiv  pron 
to  tyrannize  over  their  subjects,  or  that  the  people  are  disposed  to 
insult  und  ,    tint  the  b  and 

poetry  are  felt   by  all  mankind,  even  the  mo.->t  unpolished  and  un- 
learned;   that  the   rules  of  crit  nothing  more  than  the 

theor  is  ;   th.it  prudence  and  industn 

the  1)  is   in   business,    while 

folly  und  i'  commonly  attended  with  misfortune  and 

tempt;    you  :q>  •:.eerning  the  truth  OJ 

prop 

4.  If  you  gain  not  imm<  io  to  procure  il 

'.-numerate  examples,  by  which  the  opinions  which  you  main- 

tain  h;n  e  .nd  to  hold   forth  these   us  documents  of 

;  A!  concurrence,  in  support  of  the  judgment  which  yoa  have 

/jects,  the  D  '  ictory  evidence,  and 

the  hest  theories,  are  founded  on  the  nature  of  the  human  constitu- 
tion.     'I'll  *t',d    moralists,    politicians, 

critic  human  affairs,  ground  their  maxims  and 

>ns  0,1  t!u-  qualities  of  the  mind,   of  which  the-}   are 
const  liich  they  discover  that   others   nre 


47-!.  If.  Iviviiiox,  another  copious  source  of  knowledge, 

communicates  tons  couvictiun  of  the  truth  of  all  tho*<- 
-'io/is  whicli  are  denominated  self-evident,     hil'-'ltwn  is 
perception  of  the  agreement  or  disa^n  •ru.ent  r,\'  \  v  o  1- 
oi.  bare  juxfa-  position,  without  th«'.  mteryention  of  any 
Idea;  and  the  proposition  which  c  iur  judg- 

ment of  that  agreement  or  disagreement  is  said  to  be  >uppor- 
!»y  t'ltutii  '/.  3-10.  a.nJ  34\.) 

.  1.  All  tin.-  axions  of  muthe;iiatics  and  arithmetic;  as,  that 
"  ri'wo  straiglit  lines  cannot  contain  a  space,"  —  "  Things  et[ual  to 
the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another,"  —  "  Two  ana  three  are 
d  to  five,"  —  "  Two  and  three  are  not  equal  to  six;"  —  all  the 
principles  adopted  in  physical  science  ;  as,  that  "  A  body  cannot 
be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time,"  —  "  Nothing  can  produce  no- 
thing1," —  "  It  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to 
all  the  maxims  relative  to  identity  ;  as,  that  "  Matter  is  matter/-' 
and,  "  Spirit  is  spirit,"  (which  by  the  bye  an  form  int':i: 

tive  propositions. 


£ 5 0  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i v . 

2.  All  certain  reasoning1,  commonly  called  demonstration,  must 
begin  with  a  comparison  of  two  Ideas  expressed  by  an  intuitive  pro- 
position ;   and  every  proposition,  expressive  of  the  agreement  of 
any  two  intermediate  Ideas,   or  of  every  successive  step  of  the 
demonstration,  must  be  intuitive. 

3.  These  are  the  chief  cases  of  intuitive  truth.     But  before  we 
leave  this  topic,  we  must  observe,  that  some  axioms  which  philoso- 
phers seem  to  be  so  fond  of  holding  forth  as  the  foundations  of  all 
science,  appear  so  far  from  being  such,  that  no  reasoning  is  ever 
founded  on  them,  and  that  they  are  of  no  essential  use  in  the  course 
of  reasoning.     This  leads  us  to  ask,   What  is  an  axiom  ?     It  is  evi- 
dently a  general  proposition,  including  a  number  of  particular  cases, 
and  declarative  of  an  intuitive  twth.     This  truth  must  be  as  obvious, 
when  surveyed  in  any  of  the  particular  cases,  as  it  is  in  the  general 
proposition.     If  this  therefore  be.  true,  the  axiom  can  be  of  little 
use,  for  its  application  to  the  particular  case  affords  no  light  which 
the  mind  did  not  possess  before  that  application. 

Example  1.  If  you  say  that  tivo  and  three  are  equal  to  four  and  one, 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied  of  the  equality  of  these  two  quantities,  be- 
fore the  application  of  the  axiom,  that  "  Things  equal  to  the  same 
thing  are  equal  to  one  another,"  and  before  I  add,  that  they  are 
both  equal  to  five.  The  axiom  adds  no  light  to  my  conceptions. 
Jt  merely  repeats  in  general  terms,  what  was  expressed  more  sim- 
ply, if  not  more  intelligibly,  in  particular  terms. 

2.  If  from  two  lines,  each  a  mile  long,  you  take  away  respective- 
ly two  half  miles,  I  cannot  hesitate  a  moment,  that  the  remaining 
hi» if  miles  are  equal  to  one  another,  although  I  had  never  heard  of 
the  axiom,  "  If  equals  are  taken  from  equals,  the  remainders  will 
be  equal/' 

3.  If  from  a  field  of  an  acre  in  extent,  you  take  away  half  an 
acre,  and  throw  it  into  an  adjacent  field,  I  have  the  most  entire  con- 
viction that  the  extent  of  the  first  field  will  be  much  less  than  it 
was  before  the  division,  without  having  recourse  to  the  axiom,  that 
f(  The  whole  is  greater  than  a  part." 

4.  If  you  infer  that  something  must  have  existed  from  eternity, 
because  something  now  exists,  your  conviction  is  complete,  before 
you  reflect  on,  or  perhaps  know,  the  scholastic  maxim,  "Ex  nihilo 
nihil  sit,"  MMing  can  produce  nothing. 

5.  If  you  are  certain  that  the  sun  is  above  the  horizon,  you  con- 
clude with  entire  confidence,  that  he  is  not  also  below  it,  although 
you  may  be  unacquainted  with  the  axiom,  "  Bodies  cannot  be  in 
different  places  at  the  same  time." 

6.  If,  having  two  lines,  one  half  a  mile,  and  the  other  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  long,  you  add  to  each  a  whole  mile,  you  are  perfectly  sa- 
tisfied that  the  new  line,  composed  of  the  mile  and  the  half  mile,  is 
longer  than  that  composed  of  the  mile  and  the  quarter.     Nor  do 
you  procure  any  additional  conviction  whatever  from  the  applica- 
tion of  the  axiom,  "If  equals  be  added  to  unequals,  the  wholes  will 
be  unequal." 

Corol.  From  all  these  examples  it  is  apparent,  that  axioms  are 
general  expressions  of  truths,  obvious  in  particular  cases  included 
under  general  expressions,  in  a  word,  an  axiom  is  applicable  wh£n 


CHAP.  ii.  Of  Propositions.  £31 

we  have  found,  by  other  means  than  by  its  aid,  that  under  it  is  com- 
prehended the  particular  case  about  which  we  are  reasoning". 

473.  REASONING   supports    an    exceedingly    numerous 
class  of  propositions,  more  numerous  than  all  the  other  kinds 
of  evidence  put  together.     But  we  do  not  now  discuss  its 
nature,  nor  explain  the  different  degrees  of  evidence  it  sup 
plies. 

Oba.  Almost  all  the  propositions  of  science,  most  of  those  of  the 
arts,  and  of  business;  in  a  word,  those  propositions  of  all  cases  in 
which  the  mind  receives  certain  or  probable  conviction  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  its  rational  faculties,  belong"  to  this  class,  but  we  have  al- 
ready explained  the  nature  of  these  propositions,  under  the  differ- 
ent kinds  of  evidence  by  which  they  are  supported,  when  we  treat 
ed  of  the  different  kinds  of  evidence  in  Chapter  XI.  Book  II. 

474.  TKSTIMONY  was  the  last  source  of  knowledge,  and 
the  last  species  of  evidence,  which  we  purposed  to  explain. 
Testlinomj  founded  in  the  trust  which  we  repose  in  the  ve- 
racity of  our  fellow  ui-atures,  and  in  their  intercourse  with 
one  another,  is  of  very  extensive-  use. 

Illus.  All  the  credit  of  history,  all  the  intelligence  of  places,  men, 
and  thing's,  we  cannot  in  person  examine  ;  all  the  security  society 
can  confer  on  life  and  property  in  courts  of  justice;  all  the  infor- 
mation of  business  and  social  life  ;  depend  entirely  on  the  opinion 
we  have,  that  men  will  tell  truth  in  their  communications  to  one 
another.  (~See  Jlrt.  315.  fl/u/440.^)  In  many  cases,  the  evidence  of 
testimony  affords  a  high  degree  of  satisfaction ;  but  the  degrees  of 
satisfaction  decrease,  till  they  degenerate  into  that  equivocal  state, 
in  which  probability  for  and  against  truth  are  so  equally  poised,  as 
to  leave  the  mind  in  a  state  of  suspense.  (See  *1rt.  315.  and  439.) 

475.  Two  causes  chiefly  induce  us  to  distrust  the  credi- 
bility of  testimony,  I*/,  suspicion  that  the  relater  was  not 
fully  informed,  or,  Zdly.  that  his  interest  might  influence  him 
to  utter  falsehood.     The  presence  of  either,  or  of  both  these 
causes,  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  hesitation.    But,  where  nei- 
ther takes  place,  we  seem  to  have  no  reason  to  distrust  the 
information  of  testimony.     Truth  is  congenial  to  the  mind 
of  man.    It  is  more  easy  to  tell  truth  than  to  utter  falsehood. 
It  is  not  easy  to  utter  falsehood  with  success.     Some  time 
must  elapse  before  the  mind  can  acquire  those  habits,  and 
that  composure,  which  are  necessary  to  secure  falsehood  from 
the  inconsistency  and  embarrassment  which  instantly  pro- 
claim its  baseness  and  its  insincerity.     (Art.  442.) 

Elus.  Though  the  evidence  of  testimony  cannot  be  deemed  equi- 
valent to  that  of  demonstration,  or  to  that  of  the  senses,  yet  in  most 
cases  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  indulge  the  least  suspicion. 

Example.  That  there  are  such  cities  as  Paris,  Rome,   or  Pekin, 


232  *#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv 

that  Alexander  conquered  a  great  part  of  the  western  quarter  of 
Asia,  and  that  Julius  Czesar  was  killed  in  the  senate-house,  are  all 
facts  of  which  we  cannot  entertain  the  smallest  doubt.  f+1rt.  309. 
Him.  2.  and  Example.  J 

Carol.  The  conviction  which  we  have  of  the  truth  of  such  facts  is 
called  certainty,  and  the  impression  made  on  the  mind  by  the  evi- 
dence of  testimony  in  general,  is  termed  belief.  The  impression 
which  results  from  divine  testimony,  or  the  evidence  of  revelation, 
has  obtained  the  name  of  faith. 

IV.  Of  mathematical,  moral,  political,  and  prudential, 
Reasoning. 

476.  All  knowledge  is  either  intuitive,  demonstrative,  or 
probable.     Intuitive  knowledge  is  extremely  circumscribed, 
and  reasoning  therefore  begins  where  intuition  ends,  and 
consists  in  finding  out  the  truth  of  a  proposition,  or  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  its  subject  and  predicate,  by 
the  help  of  intermediate  ideas.     The  intermediate  ideas 
form  the  steps,  or  links,  by  which  the  mind  passes  from  th& 
first  of  the  primary  ideas  to  the  last,  or  from  the  subject  of 
any  proposition  to  its  predicate  ;  arid  finally  perceives  their 
relation. 

Illus.  1.  Reasoning  assumes  different  names,  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  steps,  or  of  the  links  which  display  the  relation  be- 
tween the  primary  ideas.  Thus,  if  the  mind  attain  complete  satis- 
faction in  every  step  cf  its  progress,  or  in  the  successive  compari- 
son of  every  pair  of  ideas,  it  is  said  to  acquire  certainty  of  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  the  two  primary  ideas ;  and  the  reasoning 
is  called  demonstrative.  (See  Art.  303,  304,  and  305.) 

2.  If  the  agreement  of  the  intermediate  ideas  with  one  another, 
and  with  the  extremes,  is  not  perfectly  satisfactory,  that  is,  if  the 
steps  of  the  reasoning  leave  the  mind  under  some  degree  of  hesita- 
tion, the  reasoning  is  denominated  probable:  and  the  reasoner  at- 
tains probability  only  of  the  truth  of  the  proposition  he  investigates. 
Where  certainty  terminates,  probability  commences ;  and  the  lat- 
ter admits  numerous  degrees,  from  the  highest  degree,  which 
stands  next  to  certainty,  to  the  lowest,  which  makes  so  little  im- 
pression, as  to  permit  the  mind  to  remain  in  a  state  of  suspense. 
(See  Art.  306  and  307,  with  their  Illustrations.) 

477.  If  a  proposition,   supported  by  probable  evidence, 
relate  to  speculation,  the  judgment  formed  concerning  it  is 
often  called   opinion;  if  it  relate  tojacts,  chiefly  supported 
by  testimony^  the  judgment  is  generally  called  belief.    (See 
Art.  278.  with  all  its  illustrations  and  Examples.) 

Ilhis.  1.  In  explaining,  therefore,  .the  branch  of  logic  now  before 
us,  all  we  have  to  do,  is,  to  reduce  to  practice  frst,  the  analysis  we 
have  given  of  demonstrative  reasoning;  (Art,  303.);  secondly,  that 


•«HAP.  ii.  Of  Propositions.  :235 

cf  probable  reasoning  (Art.  306.) ;  and  point  out  the  sciences  anci 
arts  in  which  they  are  respectively  employed. 

2.  All  reasoning-  is  either  of  the  one  kind  or  the  other;  and  In 
every  science  or  art,  in  which  conviction  does  not  come  up  to  cer- 
tainty, we  must  be  content  with  probability.  (Art,  308.) 

478.  Mathematics  and  Arithmetic  are  the  only  sciences 
susceptible  of  demonstrative  proof,  which  is  so  satisfactory 
and  cogent  as  to  exclude  even  the  supposition  of  falsehood. 
(Art.  304.J  Other  sciences,  in  their  principles,  may  per- 
haps furnish  proofs  nearly,  if  not  completely  demonstrative; 
but  in  the  detail  they  exhibit  nothing  better  than  probability. 
The  high  evidence  of  the  science  ot  quantity,  independent 
of  the  importance  of  the  truths  which  it  teaches,  renders 
them  good  exemplifications  of  the  rules  of  logic :  and  one 
of  the  best  methods  of  becoming  a  good  reasoner,  is,  to  be 
familiar  with  the  processes  of  investigation  which  they  sup- 
ply. ( See  the  Illustrations  and  Examples  to  Jirl.  304.,) 

IUus.  To  reduce  to  practice  demonstrative  reasoning1,  we  shall 
now  analyze  some  propositions  of  the  Elements  of  Euclid.  Reason- 
ing is  a  successive  comparison  ot\-very  pair  of  kleas,  from  theirs/ 
to  the  last,  or  from  the  idea  which  forms  the  subject  of  the  proposi- 
tion, to  the  one  which  forms  the  predicate  /  and  in  demonstration 
«:\ciy  comparison  is  intuitively  certain.  When  these  ideas  are 
found  to  agree,  the  demonstration  is  finished,  and  the  reasoning*  is 
concluded.  (Art.  298.) 

Example  1.  Suppose  we  begin  with  the  first  proposition  of  the 
first  book  of  the  Elements,  which  proposes  "  To  describe  an  equi- 
lateral triangle  on  a  given  straight  line."  Let  us  pass  over  the  ope- 
rations by  which  the  triangle  in  the  figure  is  described,  because  we 
mean  to  analyze  only  the  reasoning  of  the  proposition. 

Argument.  After  the  figure  has  been  constructed  on  the  given  line, 
the  proposition  to  be  proved  is,  that  "  The  triangle  so  constructed 
is  equilateral,  or  has  all  its  sides  equal."  The  subject  of  the  propo- 
ition,  or  the  first  idea  of  it,  is,  that  of  the  triangle  described;  the 
predicate  of  the  proposition,  or  the  second  idea  of  it,  is,  that  of  the 
equality  of  the  sides  of  the  triangle.  Now,  it  is  not  intuitively  certain 
that  the  three  sides  are  all  equal  to  one  another ;  therefore  some 
intermediate  ideas  must  be  placed  between  the  subject  and  the  pre- 
dicate of  the  proposition,  to  shew  their  agreement.  The  process 
consists  of  two  steps,  that  is  to  say,  one  intermediate  idea  is  necessary 
to  prove  the  proposition.  The  first  step  is  the  comparison  of  the 
base  A  B*  with  one  of  the  sides  A  C ;  and  of  their  equality  we  have 
intuitive  certainty,  because,  by  the  description  of  the  figure,  they 
Are  radii  of  the  same  circle.  The  second  step  is  the  comparison  of 
the  same  side  A  B,  with  the  other  side  E  C  ;  and  of  their  equality, 
also,  we  have  intuitive  certainty,  as  they  are  both  semi-diameters  of 
•Bother  circle  of  the  same  radius  with  the  former.  This  step  finish- 

*  See  the  Figure  in  Simson's  Euclid. 


234  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv, 

es  the  demonstration.  The  base  is  found  to  agree  with  both  the 
sides;  and  the  triangle  must  be  equilateral,  because  all  the  sides 
are  equal ;  the  subject  and  predicate  of  the  proposition  are  found 
exactly  to  agree. 

Example  2.  In  the  forty-seventh  proposition  of  the  first  book  of 
the  Elements,  the  truth  to  be  established  is,  "  That  in  a  right  angled 
triangle,  the  square  of  the  side  opposite  to  the  right  angle  is  equal 
in  quantity  to  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  other  two  sides."  The 
square  opposite  to  the  right  angle  is  the  subject,  the  sum  of  the  two 
other  squares  is  the  predicate,  and  the  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  first 
square  is  to  be  compared  with  the  idea  of  the  sum  of  the  other  tw 
squares. 

Argument  I.  The  first  step  is  to  prove,  that  G  AC*  is  one  straight 
line,  and  II  A  B  another,  in  order  to  lay  a  foundation  for  demonstra- 
ting that  the  triangle  F  B  C  is  equal  to  half  the  square  FA,  and  the 
triangle  A  B  D  equal  to  half  the  parallelogram  B  L. 

If.  The  next  step  is  to  prove  the  triang'le  A  B  D  equal  to  the 
triangle  F  B  C. 

III.  The  third  step  is  to  prove  the  triangle  A  B  D  equal  to  half 
the  parallelogram  B  L,  and  the  triangle   F  B  C  equal  to  half  the 

'square  F  A ;  and  hence  to  infer  the  equality  of  the  square  F  A  to 
the  parallelogram  B  L. 

IV.  Three  similar  steps  are  necessary  to  find  the  square  A  K 
equal  to  the  parallelogram  C  L;  and  hence  to  infer  the  equality  of 
the  whole  square  B  E  to  the  two  squares  F  A  and  A  K,  which  es- 
tablishes the  agreement  of  the  subject  and  predicate  of  the  proposi- 
tion ;  or  that  the  square  of  the  side  opposite  to  the  tight  argle,  is  equal 
to  the  squares  of  the  two  other  sides. 

Corol.  To  complete  this  process,  then,  there  are  nccessruy  these 
six  capital  steps,  and  each  of  these  includes  one  or  more  subordinate 
steps,  so  that  the  sum  of  the  subordinate  steps  amounts  to  no  fewer 
than  twelve;  and  if  these  are  added  to  the  six  caplal  ones,  it  ap- 
pears, that  to  prove  this  proposition,  there  are  requisite  eighteen 
intermediate  ideas.  The  mind  has  a  clear  and  distinct  perception  of 
the  agreement  of  every  pair  of  ideas;  and  the  effect  is  proportion- 
al to  the  cause,  for  the  mind  obtains  the  most  complete  certainty 
of  the  truth  of  the  proposition. 

479.  All  reasoning  has  this  in  common  with  demonstra- 
tion, that  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  primary 
ideas  must  be  proved  by  intermediate  ideas;  the  difference 
is,  that  the  agreement  of  the  intermediate  ideas  with  one 
another,  and  with  their  primary  ideas,  amounts  not  to  cer- 
tainty ;  it  is  no  more  than  probable. 

Corol.  From  this  view  it  will  appear,  that  the  far  greater  part  of 
knowledge,  and  even  the  most  interesting  and  important  part,  that 
which  concerns  morality,  politics,  the  useful  arts,  and  business,  is 
not  supported  by  better  evidence  than  probability.  (See  *<lrt.. 
211.)  The  probability,  however,  in  many  cases  is  highly  convinc- 

*  See  the  Figv 


i.  Of  Propositions.  235 

ing,  approaches  very  near  to  certainty,  and  affords  good  ground  for 
acting-  upon  it  with  perfect  confidence  and  satisfaction.  (See  Carol 
Art.  312,) 

480.  That  all  men  should  revere  their  Maker,  and  per- 
form every  duty  which  they  conceive  will  be  acceptable  to 
him  ;  that  (hey  should  do  good  to  their  fellow -creatures,  and 
not  wantonly  hurt  or  injure  them  ;  that  they  should  live  in 
temperance  and  moderation,  in  order  to  insure  the  highest 
happiness  their  constitutions  can  enjoy;  are  all  conclusions, 
the  justness  of  which  no  one  can  doubt,  any  more,  perhaps, 
than  he  can  doubt  that  two  and  three  make'tive ;  or  that  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles. 

Argument.  The  agreement  of  the  idea  which  we  have  of  man, 
with  those  ideas  which  we  have  of  his  Creator,  and  of  his  fellow 
creatures,  infers  these  duties  with  an  evidence  which  nearly  ap- 
proaches demonstration.  But  when  we  descend  to  investigate  the 
nature  of  particular  acts  of  regard  to  God,  or  of  intercourse  with 
our  fellow  creatures,  our  scale  applies  inaccurately;  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  ideas  is  not  perfectly  clear;  and  we  are  not  cer- 
tain fat  least  we  do  not  agree;  where  regard  to  the  Almighty  ter- 
minates, and  disregard  begins;  where  justice  or  charity  ceases^  and 
injustice  or  severity  commences. 

Carol.  Till  this  can  be  done,  we  have  no  reason  to  expect  that 
the  precepts  of  morality  shall  be  supported  by  the  evidence  of  de- 
monstration. (See  Art.  353.  Corol.  1  and  2.) 

481.  The  same  species  of  reasoning  applies  to  the  evi- 
dence of  other  sciences,  of  arts,  and  ot  business.  In  them 
all,  the  mind  discovers  only  moral  certainty,  that  is,  differ- 
ent degrees  of  probable  evidence,  (Art.  354.)  according  as 
the  agreement  of  ideas  is  more  or  less  clear  and  satisfactory. 

Example  1.  Suppose  some  reasoning  were  employed  to  re  com- 
fftend  the  love  of  God,  or  to  prove  this»proposition — "  MAN  ought  to 
love  God."  The  agreement  of  ideas  in  moral  reasoning,  we  have 
formerly  observed,  relates  to  propriety,  fitness,  reasonableness.  (Art. 
480.;  The  meaning,  then,  of  the  proposition  will  be,  whether  the 
idea  we  have  of  such  an  imperfect  dependent  creature  as  man, 
agrees  with  the  idea  of  his  exerting  love  toward  the  great,  wise,  and 
good  Being  who  made  the  universe,  or  whether  it  he  fit,  proper, 
and  right  that  man  should  love  God  P  (See  Art.  352.  Illus.,1,  2,  3.) 
Argument  1.  To  prove  this  proposition,  a  Theologian  might 
employ  several  intermediate  ideas ;  he  might  first  shew  that  the 
Almighty  is  the  most  amiable  Being  in  the  universe,  and  that  HE 
possesses  all  those  attributes  of  goodness,  wisdom,  and  power,  iost 
calculated  to  excite  attachment.  The  amiahleness  of  God  would, 
thus  involve  a  large  collection  of  particulars,  of  subordinate  ideas, 
which  together  would  constitute  what,  in  the  science  of  morals,  is 
denominated  an  argument. 

}l    The  Theologian  might  prove,  secondly,  that  the  love  of  God 


236  £  Grammar  of  Logic.  a  o  OK  i  v. 

is  the  surest  means  of  happiness  to  ourselves.  It  will  communicate 
self-approbation,  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  Providence,  and  the 
administration  of  human  affairs ;  and  will  extirpate  those  anxieties 
and  fears  which  haunt  and  distract  weak  and  vicious  men.  The 
illustration  of  these  topics  also,  would  include  a  great  number  of 
subordinate  ideas,  and  would  constitute  another  argument  for  the 
love  of  God. 

III.  The  Theologian  might  farther  insist  that  love  to  God  is  rea- 
sonable and  proper,  in  return  for  the  numerous  instances  of  kind- 
ness, mercy,  and  love,  which  the  Deity  daily  exerts  towards  us. 
The  illustration  of  these  instances,  likewise,  would  comprehend 
many  subordinate  ideas,  and  would  furnish  a  third  argument  in 
support  of  the  proposition.  (See  Art.  294.  Obs.  and  Example.} 

Example  2.  Suppose  again,  it  were  to  be  inferred  from  future 
punishment  that  "  Men  must  be  free  agents,"  or  that  «  The  idea  of 
future  punishment  agrees  with  that  of  self-determination,  or  the 
freedom  of  action."  The  following  train  of  intermediate  ideas  will 
shew  that  agreement. 

Argument  I.  Future  punishment  must  be  inflicted  by  the  Almighty  . 
the  Almighty  can  inflict  no  punishment  that  is  not  just ;  the  punish- 
ed of  course  must  be  guilty :  they  could,  then,  have  done  otherwise, 
and  consequently  must  be  free  agents. 

II.  This  train  of  ideas,  more  shortly  expressed,  will  stand  thus 
Future  punishment — God  the  punisher — punishment  just — punish- 
ed guilty — could  have  done  otherwise — self-determination. 

CoroL  In  this  piece  of  reasoning  there  are  four  intermediate 
ideas,  and  five  comparisons  are  made  to  discover  the  agreement  with 
the  extremes,  and  with  one  another.  The  agreement  between  the 
adjacent  ideas  in  every  step,  appears  with  a  high  degree  of  convic- 
tion ;  and  were  each  of  the  ideas  illustrated  at  some  length,  accord- 
ing to  the  common  mode  of  reasoning  on  moral  topics,  the  whole 
would  form  an  elegant  deduction,  and  would  communicate  a  very 
lively  impression. 

Example  3.  Let  us  suppose  farther,  that  the  following  political 
proposition  were  proposed  to  DC  proved;  and  let  us  consider  the 
nature  of  the  reasoning  requisite  to  establish  it.  "  Industry  is  the 
capital  source  of  national  prosperity."  The  ideas,  or  terms,  as  the 
logicians  express  themselves,  to  be  compared,  are  those  of  industry 
and  national  prosperity. 

Argument  I.  We  must  here  remark,  that  agreement  of  ideas  in 
politics  refers,  not  to  reasonableness  and  fitness,  as  in  morals,  but  to 
public  utility,  or  national  happiness.  The  meaning,  then,  of  the 
proposition  is  this,  that  industry  makes  a  nation  prosperous,  by  ex- 
tending" its  opulence,  and  exalting  its  reputation,  in  support  of  which 
we  thus  argue. 

1.  Industry  increases  the  population  of  a  country,  by  providing 
subsistence  for  additional  inhabitants. 

2.*  An  increase  of  inhabitants,  increases  commerce  and  manufac- 
tures. 

3.  Commerce  and  manufactures  procure  riches  from  foreign  na- 
tions of  less  industry. 

4,  These  riches  prompt  a  spirit  of  enterprise  still  further  to  ex- 


CHAP,  n*  Of  Propositions. 

tend  commerce  and  manufactures.     Hence  new  nerves  to  doi;> 
industry. 

5.  The  comforts,  and  many  of  the  luxuries  of  life,  are  provided 
for  all  the  members  of  the  community. 

6.  Ample  security  is  found  for  the  continuance  of  these  advanta- 
ges by  the  national  reputation  which  they  procure,  and  the  ! 
resources  of  money  and  of  men  that  they  supply  to  maintain 
reputation. 

II.  But  national  prosperity  consists  in  these  thing's  which  we  have 
enumerated  ; — a  wealthy,  sober,  industrious,  and  numerous  people, 
respectable  at  home,  and  formidable  abroad.     1'ach  of  the  steps 
might  have  been  illustrated  at  considerable  length,  and  might  have 
formed  a  very  pleasant  an 

III.  They  may  also  be  condensed  into  m</.\   narrow  bounds,  and 
;orm  the  follow  vady  for  the  nearest  comparison  : — 

National  industry — increase  of  people — improvements  in  commerce- 
and  manufactures — national  riches — national  enter;;  >fe  at 

home,  numerous  and  happy,  respectable  and  formidable  abroad — 
national  p; 

Corol.  This  si  'its  five  intermediate1  h!--as;  and  six  com- 

pari.-  to  afford  convictiqn  of  t]  t'  the 

.vith  the  last,  or  of  the  subject  of  the  proposition  with  its 
predic 

4S'-2.  In  tlit'  K  samples  \\hich  we  have  advanced  from  Mo- 
rals and  Politics,  the  K\idence,  you  will  observe,  though 
highly  sati-.»r;:<  till  no  more  than  probable  ;  and  does 

not  appear  with  that  commanding  tone  which  compels  assent. 
Sceptical  men  may  find  reaxm  — ent,  and 

disputatious  men  may  rai>e  difficulties,  which  we  mint  ad- 
mit are  not  destitute  of  foundation,  (tfrt.  4.U).  ami  -MO.) 

llhts.  Accordingly,  against  everv  step  of  the  preceding  political 
*,-,  some  doubt  may  be  started.  It  may  be  argued,  1.  that  in- 
dustry is  not  always  attended  with  an  increase  of  people;  it  may 
even  sometimes  produce  the  contrary  effect;  it  may  induce  the 
people  to  emigrate  to  other  countries,  where  their  labour  will  be 
better  rewarded  than  at  home.  II.  It  may  be  urged  also  that  the 
most  warlike  and  powerful  nations  are  often  the  poorest  and  the 
most  hardy,  while  arts  and  industry  only  supply  riches  to  tempt 
such  adventurers  to  seize  both  the  country  and  its  wealth.  111.  It 
mi.y  besides  be  contended,  that  arts  and  industry  enenate  man- 
kind, multiply  their  wants  and  \ices,  and  render  a  people  misera- 
ble in  the  midst  of  every  provision  for  happiness  ;  that  tht-v  ivpresrs 
all  the  great  and  splendid,  and,  consequently,  main-  of  the  i;;cst 
pleasant  exertions  of  the.  mind. 

Corol.  It  is  the  possibility  of  constructions  of  this  sort,  in  all  pro- 
bable investigations,  which  diminishes  then*  evidence,  and  renders 
tiie  conviction  which  they  produce  injerior  to  demonstration, 

483.  But  how  susceptible  soever  of  controversy  these 
specimens  of  Reasoning  may  be,  they  are  much  more  satis- 

21  * 


238  i#  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  iv, 

factory  than  are  many  of  the  conjectural  estimations  on 
which  mankind  every  day  act  in  some  of  the  most  important 
concerns  of  life. 

Illus.  Thus,  many  of  the  engagements  which  we  form,  and  every 
new  line  of  life  on  which  we  enter,  involve  numerous  considera- 
tions to  determine  our  conduct, — considerations  which  are  scarcely 
supported  by  better  evidence  than  speculation.  The  wisdom  of 
the  prudent  man  is  seldom  more  meritorious  than  the  sagacity  which 
leads  him  to  conjecture  with  most  probability,  or  which  teaches 
him  to  proceed  with  recollection  and  attention  to  surrounding  ob- 
jects, so  as  to  avail  himself  of  passing  events. 

484.  In  our  Reasonings   of  Anticipation,    we  proceed 
chiefly  by  Analogy.     We  suppose  that  the  future  will  re- 
semble the  past.  (Jlri<  315.  Illus.  1.  2.J     In  the  negociations 
of  business,  and  in  forecasting  the  probable  consequences  of 
any  plan  of  conduct,  we  must  conclude,  that  similar  causes 
will  produce  similar  effects;  that  men  will  act  in  time  to 
come  as  they  have  done  in  time  past;  and  that  the  course 
of  nature  will  proceed  by  the  established  rules  which  have 
directed  it  since  the  world  began. 

Illus.  We  argue  from  the  characters,  the  opinions,  the  interests, 
the  passions,  the  weaknesses,  and  the  caprices  of  men  ;  and  we  en- 
deavour to  form  systems  of  conduct  for  them,  derived  from  the  sit- 
uations which  they  occupy.  (*lrt.  349.)  The  trains  of  reasoning 
which  we  adopt  in  such  cuses*.  are  in  a  great  measure  hypothetical ; 
and  the  probability  of  the  evidence  frequently  is  of  the  lowest  kind, 
Conjectures  often  so  counterbalance  one  another,  as  to  leave  the- 
mind  in  a  state  of  total  suspense.  (*#r£.3l7.  Illus.  Example  and  Co'- 
roL) 

V.  Different  Species  of  Reasoning. 

485.  In  the  different  methods,  in  common  use,  of  distri- 
buting or  arranging  Ideas  in  different  processes  of  reasoning, 
the  Reasoning  is  said  to  be  either  direct  or  indirect,     (dirt* 
305.  Ilhts.  1,  2.  and  Example.)     In  direct  Reasoning,  we 
prove  a  proposition  in  the  manner  which  we  have  now  ex- 
plained, by  fending  intermediate  Ideas  that  show  the  agree- 
ment of  the  terms  of  which  it  consists.     In  indirect  Rea- 
soning, we  do  not  trace  the  agreement  of  the  terms  of  a 
proposition;  it  takes  pkice  only  when  the  predicate  of  a 
proposition  admits  an  alternative,  and  when  either  the  pre- 
dicate or  the  alternative  must  be  true,  or  must  agree  with 
the  subject  of  the  proposition,  because  they  exhaust  every 
case  that  can  exist.     We  prove  that  the  alternative  cannor 
be  true ;  and  therefore  the  predicate  must  be  true. 


.  tr.  Of  Propositions.  £39, 

Example  1.  Euclid  lays  down  this  proposition,  "  That  a  straight 
line  drawn  at  right  angles  from  the  extremity  of  a  diameter,  falls 
without  the  circle." 

Argument.  No  intermediate  idea,  it  seems,  occurred,  by  which 
he  could  deduce  the  proof  directly  from  the  nature  of  the  circle,  or 
of  the  perpendicular,  or  the  extremity  of  the  diameter.  He  pro- 
ceeds, therefore,  by  indirect  demonstration,  and  introduces  an  alter- 
native. The  perpendicular  must  full  either  without  the  circle,  or 
•within  it.  No  third  supposition  can  be  made,  relative  to  the  man- 
ner of  its  falling  ;  for  it  cannot  fall  upon  the  circumference  of  the 
circle,  except  in  one  point.  He  proves  that  the  alternative  cannot 
be  true,  or  that  the  perpendicular  cannot  fall  within  the  circle. — 
The  predicate,  then,  must  be  true,  that  the  perpendicular  falls  with- 
out the  circle. 

Example  2.  Again,  "  The  moon  is  either  an  opaque  or  a  transpa- 
rent body." 

Argument.  It  is  not  transparent,  because,  if  it  were,  it  would 
transmit  the  rays  of  the  sun  when  it  comes  between  the  sun  and  the 
earth ;  and  no  eclipse  of  the  sun  could  happen  from  the  interven- 
tion of  it  between  the  sun  and  the  earth  :  But  this  conclusion  is  con- 
trary to  truth,  for  such  eclipse  does  happen.  The  alternative,  there- 
fore, that  the  moon  is  a  transparent  body,  must  be  false,  and  con- 
sequently the  predicate  must  be  true,  that  the  moon  is  an  opaque  bo- 
dy. The  refutation  of  the  alternative  is  always  pursued,  till  it  ter- 
minates in  some  contradiction,  falsehood,  or  absurdity  ;  and  on  this- 
account  indirect  Reasoning  is,  by  the  Logicians,  sometimes  called 
•<  Reductio  ad  absurdum."  (Art.  305.  Illus.  1.) 

486.  It  has  often  been  disputed,  whether  indirect  Rea- 
soning; be  less  elegant  and  less  satisfactory  than  direct  Rea- 
soning; but  we  observe  that  both  convey  truth  with  perfect 
evidence ;  and  when  a  reasoner  has  got  possession  of  an 
indirect  proof,  he  will  not  trouble  himself  much  in  searching 
for  a  direct  one.  It  is,  however,  generally  supposed,  that 
Mathematicians  never  employ  the  former  but  in  cases  of  ne- 
cessity, and  when  they  cannot  have  recourse  to  the  latter. 

Obs.  1.  The  great  number  of  beautiful  specimens  of  demonstra- 
•ion,  of  which  their  science  is  susceptible,  may  render  them  nice 
or  delicate  even  about  the  eleg'ance  and  manner  of  their  reasonings ; 
but  on  other  subjects,  and  in  other  sciences,  when  the  mind  is  glad 
o  reach  truth  on  any  terms,  it  will  be  satisfied  with  good  indirect 
proof.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  doubted,  whether  the  charge  of  inele- 
gance is  not  the  offspring  of  squeamishness  and  caprice,  rather  than 
of  just  taste. 

2.  An  indirect  train  of  ideas  is  often  long,  but  may  be  conjoined 
with  as  much  clearness  and  propriety  as  a  direct  train.  The  step 
from  the  falsehood  of  the  alternative  to  the  truth  of  the  predicate,  is 
perfectly  satisfactory,  if  not  elegant;  and  it  may  be  added,  that  in^ 
lirect  reasoning  imparts  variety  to  the  nature  of  the  proof. 

187.  Reasoning,  farther,  is  said  to  proceed  either  a  pri~ 


£40  si  Grammar  of  Logic.  fiooK  n 

on",  or-  a  posteriori ;  a  distinction  which  relates  entirely  to 
cause  and  effect. 

1.  In  reasoning1  a  priori,  we  begin  with  the  cause,  and  infer  from  it 
the  reality  or  the  species  of  the  effect. 

II.  In  reasoning  a  posteriori,  we  reverse  this  progress  ;  we  begin, 
with  the  effect,  and  reason  backward  from  it  to  the  establishment  of 
the  existence  and  the  qualities  of  the  cause. 

VI.  Examples  of  Reasoning  a  Priori. 

488.  Argument  a  priori  proves  or  disproves  the  fact  from 
the  law,  or  the  effect  from   the  cause.     Every  argument  a 
priori  may  be  reduced  to  a  perfect  syllogism,  consisting  of 
three  propositions :  of  which 

One  announces  the  law  either  positively  or  negatively, 
Another  compares  the  law  with  the  fact  to  be  proved; 

aiKl 

The  third  affirms  or  denies  the  fact,  from  its  conformity 

with,  or  its  opposition  to  the  law. 

Example  1.  If  you  maintain,  that  the  soul  of  man  is  a  thinking 
principle,  and  therefore  that  it  is  immaterial,  because  matter  cannot 
think  ;  and  hence  again  infer,  that  it  is  immortal,  because  what  is 
immaterial  cannot  die  or  be  destroyed ;  you  reason  a  priori  /  you 
deduce  the  effect  from  its  cause,  and  prove  the  soul  to  be  immortal 
from  the  nature  of  its  constitution.  ^Art.  99.  Corol.  1,  2,  3.) 

2.  If,  again,  you  argue,  that  the  people  who  live  fifteen  degrees 
farther  east  than  us,  will  have  their  day  beginning  and  ending  an 
hour  sooner  than  ours;  that  navigators  who  have  sailed  fifteen  de- 
grees eastward  will,  of  course,  have  lost  an  hour  of  our  day,  and  will 
have  gained  an  hour  from  the  clay  of  the  people  of  that  longitude ; 
that  these  navigators  will  experience  a  similar  loss,  and  gain  in 
point  of  time,  for  every  fifteen  degrees  eastward  on  the  face  of  the 
globe  ;  and  that,  as  they  must  pass  through  four  and  twenty  times 
fifteen  degrees  in  sailing  round  the  globe,  so,   on  returning  home, 
they  will  calculate  time  a  day  sooner  than  their  countrymen,  be- 
cause they  have  lost  twenty-four  hours  of  the  time  of  their  country- 
mien,  in  their  voyage.     In  this  process,  you  reason  a  priori,  because 
you  deduce  a  curious  fact,   verified  by  experience  from  the  figure 
of  the  earth,  round  which  the  navigation  is  performed. 

TIL  Example  of  Reasoning  a  Posteriori. 

489.  In  reasoning  a  posteriori,  we  argue  from  the  Effect 
to  the  Cause,  and  conclude  from  the  former  the  nature  or 
existence  of  the  latter.     In  other  words,  arguments  a  poste- 
riori prove,  or  disprove  the  rule,  from  the  enumeration  of 
particulars.     Every  argument  a  posteriori  may  be  reduced 
to  a  syllogism,  consisting  of  two  propositions: 

One  is  Induction,  or  enumeration  of  facts  ; 


•  'HAP.  ii.  Of  Propositions.  ^41 

The  other  affirms  or  denies  the  law  from  the  concurrence, 
or  want  of  concurrence,  in  the  particulars  brought  to  estab- 
lish it. 

Example  1.  From  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness,  discernible 
in  all  the  works  of  nature,  you  infer,  that  there  must  be  some  wise, 
benevolent,  and  omnipotent  cause,  from  which  these  effects  pro- 
ceed. You  cannot  doubt  of  the  effects,  because  you  experience 
them  every  moment  of  your  existence  ;  you  can  as  little  doubt  that 
these  effects  must  proceed  from  some  cause,  and  that  the  cause 
must  possess  the  qnalities  conspicuous  in  the  effects. 

2.  Again,  you  observe,  that  the  shadow  of  the  earth  projected  on 
the  face  of  the  moon  in  a  lunar  eclipse,  is  of  a  circular  form  ;  and 
from  this  effect  you  justly  infer,  that  the  figure  of  the  earth  is  round, 
because  this  figure  only  could  produce  such  a  shadow. 

490.  In  this  volume  there  are  numerous  Specimens  of 
both  these  methods  of  Reasoning;  bat  the  pupil   will  find 
that  Reasonings  a  priori  are  much  circumscribed,*  because 
causes  are  seldom  so  well  known  as  their  effects. 

491.  From  effects,  chiefly,  we  ascend  to  the  knowledge  of 
rauses;  and  on  this  account  reasoning  a  posteriori  is  much 
more  frequent.     It  is  much  employed  in  inquiries  into  na- 
ture; it  is  the  ground-work  of  the  famous  method  of  induc- 
tion for  investigating  natural  knowledge,  recommended  in 
the  "Novum  Organum"  of  Lord  Bacon;  and  it  is  of  fre- 
quent use  in  politics  and  morals. 

Illus.  1.  The  best  way  to  obtain  an  acquaintance,  both  with  the 
Author  of  nature,  and  with  the  secondary  causes  which  produce  the 
rffects  we  daily  behold,  is  to  survey  with  patience  the  effects 
themselves,  because  we  have  no  means  of  information  concerning 
the  causes,  except  in  this  channel. 

2.  In  like  manner,  to  understand  the  duties  a  man  owes  to  his 
country,  or  to  his  neighbour,  we  must  scrutinize  his  constitution, 
what  forms  the  happiness  of  such  a  being,  both  as  a  member  of  so- 
ciety, and  a  moral  agent ;  what  are  his  mental  faculties,  and  his 
bodily  powers ;  his  attachments,  and  antipathies ;  his  gratifications, 
and  his  wants.  In  all  these  inquiries  we  begin  from  the  effect,  and 
ascend  to  the  cause,  or  we  reason  a  posteriori. 

VIII.  Analytic  and  Synthetic  Reasoning. 

492.  The  last  distinction  of  Reasoning,  divides  it  into 
\\ALYTIG  and  SYNTHETIC,  and  refers  chiefly  to  mathemati- 
cal Reasonings. 

I.  ANALYSIS  forms  an  elegant  method  of  investigating  the  legiti- 
macy of  demonstrations. 

II.  SYNTHESIS  puts  together  the  different  steps  after  investiga- 
tion, so  as  to  make  out  a  proof. 

III.  ANALYSIS  begins  with  the  predicate  of  a  proposition,  ami 
ascends  frem  it  to  the  subject.     (.Art,  493,  and  Example,) 


242  v#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv»  , 

IV.  SYNTHESIS  takes  the  opposite  course,  begins  with  the  subject, 
and  descends  from  it  to  the  predicate,  or  it  is  the  same  thing  with 
Direct  reasoning.  (Jlrt.  478.  Example  1  a?iJ2.) 

JZ/7^.  1.  The  ancients  carried  on  analysis  by  means  of  mathemati- 
cal figures;  algebra  is  the  great  instrument  of  modern  analysis. 
Many  examples  of  the  ancient  analysis  are  to  be  found  in  Apollo- 
nius  Pergzeus,  De  Sectione  Rationis.  Every  treatise  of  algebra,  but 
particularly  that  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  will  furnish  specimens  of  the 
modern  analysis  by  letters  or  symbols. 

2.  All  the  Demonstrations  of  the  Elements  of  Euclid  exhibit  ex- 
amples of  syntJiesis :  and  we  need  not  produce  any  of  them, 

IX.  Example  of  Analytic  Reasoning. 

493.  The  purpose  of  the  Analysis  is  to  try  the  legitimacy 
of  an  investigation,  or  to  discover  whether  the  intermediate 
ideas,  by  which  a  mathematician  suspects  a  demonstration 
mav  be  accomplished,  are  sufficient  for  that  purpose.  He 
begins  with  supposing,  that  the  ideas  are  good  media  for 
demonstrating  the  proposition  in  question,  and  constructs 
his  figure  on  that  hypothesis.  He  supposes,  farther,  the  thing 
done  that  the  problem  requires,  or  the  truth  established  which 
a  theorem  proposes  to  prove.  He* sets  out  from  the  proposi- 
tion, and  reasons  backward  to  the  beginning  of  it ;  and  if  he 
encounter  no  contradiction,  or  terminate  in  no  absurdity, 
he  concludes  the  media  to  be  pertinent  and  legitimate  ;  if 
he  terminate  in  an  absurdity  or  contradiction,  he  infers,  that 
the  media  are  improper,  and  that  the  synthetical  demonstra- 
tion will  be  inconclusive. 

Example.  Were  it  required  to  analyze  the  first  proposition  of  the 
first  book  of  the  Elements  of  Euclid,  which  proposes  to  describe  an 
equilateral  triangle  on  a  given  straight  line,  we  would  describe  a 
triangle  on  the  given  line,  and  would  suppose  it  equilateral.  We 
would  reason  thus : 

I.  If  the  triangle  be  equilateral,  then  the  making  one  end  of  the 
base  a  centre,  and  describing  a  circle  with  the  length  of  that  base 
as  a  radius,  the  circle  will  pass  through  the  other  extremity  of  the 
base,  and  the  extremity  of  one  of  the  sides ;  so  that  the  base  and 
one  of  th^sides  must  become  radii  of  the  same  circle. 

II.  If  another  circle  be  described  from  the  other  end  of  the  base, 
with  the  same  base  taken  as  a  radius,  this  circle  will  pass  through 
the  other  extremities  of  the  base  and  of  the  other  side.     The  two 
circles,  therefore,  are  equal,  because  their  radii  are  so.     This  step 
finishes  the  analysis,  and  proves  the  media  to  be  legitimate,  because 
the  reasoning  backward  has  reached  its  principle,  the  equality  of 
the  two  circles,  from  which  the  synthesis  begins,  or  from  which  the 
truth  of  the  proposition,  that  the  triangle  is  equilateral,  is  demon- 
strated. 

*94.  Logicians  mention  some  other  distinctions  pf  Rea 


CHAP,  in,  Of  Sophistry.  243 

soning,  which  we  shall  briefly  define,  because  they  some- 
times occur  in  conversation,  but  more  frequently  in  books. 

495.  \Vhenwe  argue  from  principles,  or  opinions,  ad- 
mitted by  the  person  with  whom  we  reason,  whether  they 
be  true  or  not  in  themselves,  we  are  said  to  employ  an  ar 
gumenlitm  ad  homincm. 

496.  When  we  urge  in  our  defence  some  eminent  author- 
ity, which  an  antagonist  is  ashamed  to  oppose,  we  are  said 
to  employ  an  argumcntum  ad  verecundiam. 

497.  When  we  perplex  or  puzzle  an  adversary,  we  offer 
what  is  called  argumcntum  ad  ignorantiam. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  SOPHISTRY. 

498.  FROM  TRUTH  nothing  can  really  follow  but  what  IB 
true:   whensoever,  therefore,   we  find   a  false  conclusion 
drawn  from  premises  which  seem  to  be  true,  there  must  be 
some  fault  in  the  deduction  or  inference  ;  or  else  one  of  the 
premises  is  not  true  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  used  in  that 
argument. 

When  an  argument  carries  the  face  of  truth  with  it,  and 
yet  leads  us  into  mistake,  it  is  a  SOPHISM  ;  and  there  is  no 
need  of  a  particular  description  of  these  fallacious  arguments 
that  we  may,  with  more  ease  and  readiness,  detect  arid  solve 
them. 

499.  Logicians  have  divided  SOPHISTRY  also  into  differ- 
ent kinds ;  the  most  remarkable  of  which  it  will  be  proper 
to  specify,  because  they  are  very  common. 

500.  The  first  is  called  IGNORATIO  ELENCHI,  and  con- 
sists in  mistaking  or  misrepresenting  the  state  of  the  ques- 
tion under  discussion.     This  species  occurs  in  most  contro- 
versies, but  particularly  in  political  ones,  which  now  chiefly 
engage  men  of  learning  and  ability.     Religious  and  philoso- 
phical controversies  have,  fortunately  for  the  peace  of  soci- 
ety, almost  totally  disappeared. 

Illus.  The  moment  a  writer  engages  in  controversy,  in  spite  of  all 
the  attention  he  can  maintain,  partialities  lay  hold  of  his  mind ;  his 
passions  warp  and  mislead  his  understanding1.  (See  Jlrl.  427,  and  all 
its  Illustrations.)  He  reads  the  performances  of  his  antagonist  under 
the  influence  of  dispositions  v/hich  induce  him  to  mistake  their 


£44  «/2  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv>> 


meaning.  (*#rf.  449,  and  alt  its  Illustrations.)  He  discovers  malevo- 
lent or  insidious  designs,  which  are  perceptible  by  nobody  but.  him- 
self; and  he  imputes  principles  and  views  to  his  opponent,  which 
the  latter  never  entertained  nor  disavowed.  {Art.  435,  audits  Illus- 
trations.) He  introduces  principles  and  views  of  his  own,  and  he 
reasons  and  speculates  about  them  as  if  they  were  admitted  by  the 
opposite  party.  (See  Jirt.  437,  and  all  its  Illustrations.) 

501.  Another  species  of  Sophistry  is  called  PETITIO  PRIN- 
EIPII,  (a  supposition  of  what  is  not  granted,)  and   consists 
in  assuming  as  true  the  proposition  under  debate. 

Ittus.  Few  men  are  so  void  of  discernment,  or  so  destitute  of  de- 
licacy and  regard  to  truth,  as  confidently  to  maintain  what  they  have 
not  attempted  to  prove,  and  hence  this  species  of  sophistry  is  not 
frequent  in  business.  In  philosophical  and  political  investigations, 
in  which,  on  account  of  the  intricacy  or  uncertainty  of  the  subjects, 
disputants  take  more  liberty  of  obtruding  their  opinions  upon  their 
antagonists,  or  presume  more  readily  that  assertion  may  be  admitted 
for  a  proof,  the  sophistry  petitio  principiiy  or  "  begging  the  ques- 
tion," is  exceedingly  frequent. 

502.  The  Peripatetics,  by  the  following  manifest  petitio 
principii,  pretend  to  prove,  that  the  centre  of  the  earth  is 
the  centre  of  the  universe. 

Sophism.  "  All  bodies  must  move  towards  the  centre  of  the  uni- 
verse, but  we  find  from  experience,  that  all  bodies  move  towards 
the  centre  of  the  earth  ;  therefore  the  centre  of  the  earth  is  the 
centre  of  the  universe." 

Analysis.  This  argument  proves  nothing;  for,  although  we  allow 
that  all  bodies  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  move  towards  the 
centre  of  the  earth,  it  does  not  thence  follow  that  all  bodies  in  the 
universe  move  towards  the  centre  of  the  earth.  The  truth  is,  that 
a  body  near  the  surface  of  the  earth,  moves  towards  it  only  by  the 
difference  of  attraction  exerted  by  the  earth  above  the  other  great 
bodies  in  nature  ;  that  all  the  bodies  in  the  solar  system  are  attract- 
ed towards  a  point  near  the  surface  of  the  sun  ;  and  that  all  the 
bodies  of  our  solar  system,  and  perhaps  of  all  the  systems  of  the 
universe,  are  attracted  towards  some  other  point,  which  is  the  cen- 
tre of  the  whole,  but  not  surely  the  centre  of  the  earth. 

503.  Sophistry  frequently  appears  in  arguing  from  one 
particular  to  another,  or  inferring  general  conclusions  from 
particular  cases.     The  logicians  call  this  species  a  "dicto 
secundum  quid,  ad  dictum  simpliciter,"  as,  That  which  is 
bought  in  the  shambles  is  eaten  for  dinner;  raw  meat  is 
bought  in  the  shambles  ;  therefore  raw  meat  is  eaten  for  din- 
ner.    The  argument  of  the  Epicureans  of  old,  to  prove  the 
gods  of  human  shape,  will  pertinently  illustrate  this  sort  of 
sophistry. 

Example  1.  They  maintained  that  the  human  form  was  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  those  with  which  men  were  acquainted,  or  of  which 


OHAP.  in.  Of  Sophistry.  245 

they  had  any  conception,  but  the  most  beautiful  form  is  always 
supposed  to  belong  to  the  gods,  the  best  of  beings  in  the  universe  ; 
it  was,  therefore,  reasonable  to  conclude,  that  they  were  endued 
with  the  human  form. 

Analysis.  No  connection  subsists  between  the  nature  of  man  and 
that  of  the  gods,  to  induce  us  to  believe  the  gods  must  possess  the 
shape  of  men  ;  and  we  cannot  infer,  because  the  figure  of  man  is 
the  most  beautiful  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  that  therefore 
the  form  of  the  gods,  admitting  them  to  have  some  form,  cannot 
be  more  beautiful  than  the  human.  The  argument,  that  the  form 
of  a  pine-apple,  being  the  most  beautiful,  perhaps,  of  vegetable 
forms,  is  also  the  form  of  the  gods,  would  be  equally  conclusive, 
being  a  rare  inference  from  one  particular  to  another,  between 
which  there  is  no  relation  ;  or,  in  other  words,  between  particulars 
which  have  nothing  in  common,  whence  such  an  inference  can 
possibly  be  deduced. 

Example  2.  Should  we,  again,  conclude,  from  the  foolish  or  ini- 
quitous behaviour  of  some  individuals,  of  a  numerous  order  of  men, 
that  all  the  order  are  fools  or  rogues. 

3*  Or,  from  the  unwholesomeness  or  bad  taste  of  some  sort  of 
animal  and  vegetable  food,  tliat  all  sorts  are  unwholesome  or  un- 
pleasant, 

4.  Or,  because  many  bad  kings  and  magistrates  have  been  in  the 
world,  that  all  kings  and  magistrates  are  bad  men  ;  in  each  of  these 
cases  you  would  argue  from  premises  insufficient  to  support  your 
inference,  because  you  extend  the  latter  much  farther  than  the  for- 
mer, and  suppose  that  there  are  no  exceptions,  where  there  may 
be  thousands  of  exceptions. 

504.  This  illegitimate  and  illiberal  logic  frequently  ap- 
pears in  the  intercourse  of  society,  when  all  the  connections, 
the  family,  the  friends,  and  the  order  of  an  impudent  or  a 
criminal  person  are  branded  with  the  improprieties  and  the 
errors  of  which  he  only  has  been  guilty  ;  while  they  enter- 
tain, perhaps,  a  more  lively  disapprobation  of  his  conduct 
than  those  who  load  them  with  reproach. 

llhis.  1.  Should  you  boldly  declare  that  all  the  people  of  England 
in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  were  murderers  because  a.  junto  of  bloody- 
minded  men  put  him  to  death  ;  that  all  the  people  of  France  were 
regicides  because  a  few  voted  for  the  death  of  Louis  XVI. ;  that  all 
the  people  of  the  United  States  of  America  were  unprincipled 
tyrants  and  assassins,  because  General  Jackson  put  ARBUTHITOT  and 
AMBRISTER,  British  subjects  to  death  on  false  accusations  and  prin- 
ciples of  poh'cy,  which  the  laws  of  nations  do  not  recognize  ; — you 
would  display  the  spirit  we  have  now  in  view. 

2.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  decide  whether  such  a  spirit  is  more 
characteristic  of  cruelty,  or  want  of  candour.  It  is  cruel,  for  it  dis- 
plays a  strong  disposition  to  criminate  the  innocent ;  and  to  pour 
into  delicate  and  honourable  minds  that  pungent  vexation  which  re- 
Bults  from  the  loss  of  reputation,  under  a  consciousness  of  having- 
done  nothing  to  deserve  such  a  misfortune.  It  is  void  of  candour ; 


246  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv~ 

because  no  intercourse  has  subsisted  between  the  culprit  and  the 
party  accused,  which  can  authorise  any  inference  of  blame  from  the 
one  to  the  other ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  uncandid  to  deduce  an  in- 
ference, without  premises,  or  contrary  to  those  laid  down. 

505.  Numerous  errors  and  much  false  reasoning  result 
from  forming  hypotheses,  to  account  for  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  or  the  actions  of  men,  without  endeavouring  to  in- 
vestigate the  true  causes  of  these  phenomena,  and  the  mo- 
tives of  those  actions  from  the  eftects  which  they  produce. 
This  species  of  sophistry  the  logicians  call  Causam  assig- 
nare  quse  causa  non  cst.  To  assign  that  as  a  cause  which 
is  not  the  cause :  or  as  Dr.  Watts  has  it,  non  causa  pro 
causa — or  the  assignation  of  a  false  cause.  Philosophers 
and  speculative  politicians  have  been  most  prone  to  indulge 
in  this  kind  of  ratiocination,  and  many  curious  examples  of 
it  are  to  be  found  in  physical  books,  and  in  real  life.  (See 
CHAP.  III.  BOOK  I.) 

Example  1.  All  the  heavenly  bodies,  says  Aristotle,  in  his  Physics, 
•nitst  move  in  circles,  because  a  circle  is  the  most  perfect  of  all  figures, 
and  because  bodies  moving  in  such  figures  meet  ivith  least  resistance, 
The  great  philosopher  does  not  tell  us  how  he  knew  that  the  circle 
is  the  most  perfect  of  all  figures,  and  that  bodies  moving  in  circles 
meet  with  least  resistance.  Both  these  reasons  are  mere  supposi- 
lions,  contrary  to  truth,  as  well  as  the  opinion  that  the  heavenly  bo- 
dies move  in  circles,  which,  by  a  little  observation,  he  might  have 
found  to  be  erroneous. 

2.  To  support  the  hypothesis  he  had  adopted,  concerning  the 
eternity  and  perfection  of  the  world,  the  same  philosopher  offers 
the  following  singular  ratiocination.     "  The  world  is  a  perfect  pro- 
duction, because  it  is  composed  of  bodies,-  and  bodies  are  perfect 
magnitudes,  because  they  consist  of  three  dimensions,  length,  breadth, 
and  thickness,  and  cannot  admit  of  more.     Lines  are  not  perfect 
magnitudes,  because  they  have  length  only,  which  may  easily  be 
made  to  move  into  a  surface.     Surfaces  are  not  perfect  magnitudes, 
because  they  have  only  length  and  breadth,   which  may  easily  be 
made  to  move  into  a  solid."     Now  all  this  reasoning  is  mere  conjec- 
ture, relating  to  the  qualities  only  of  magnitudes,  and  not  in  the 
least  to  their  merits. 

3.  The  occult  qualities  of  the  same  author,  and  his  followers,  are 
not  more  satisfactory  sources  of  natural  knowledge.     The  pulse 
beats — the  loadstone  points  to  the  pole — tartar  is  emetic — poppy 
produces  sleep  ;  because  there  is  a  beating  quality  in  the  pulse,  an 
attractive  quality  in  the  loadstone,  an  emetic  quality  in  tartar,  and  a 
soporific  quality  in   poppy.     Such  philosophizing  resembles   the 
play  of  children,  or  the  ridicule  of  empyrics,  rather  than  the  serious 
investigation  of  grave  inquirers  after  truth,  and  it  furnishes  an  hu- 
miliating picture  of  the  progress  of  natural  philosophy  among  the 
ancients.     (Se^^lrf.  73.  and  Corol.) 


<-HAP.  in.  Of  Sophistry.  £47 

506.  The  modems  as  well  as  the  ancients  fall  often  into 
this  fallacy,  when  they  positively  assign  the  reasons  of  na- 
tural appearances,  without  sufficient  experiments  to  prove 
them. 

Illus.  1.  ^Astrologers  are  overrun  with  this  species  of  fallacy,  and 
they  cheat  the  people  grossly  by  pretending  to  tell  fortunes,  and  to 
deduce  the  cause  of  the  various  occurrences  in  the  lives  of  men 
from  the  various  positions  of  the  stars  and  planets,  which  they  call 
aspects.  When  comets  and  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon  are  constru- 
ed to  signify  the  fate  of  princes,  the  revolution  of  states,  famine, 
wars,  and  calamities  of  all  kinds,  it  is  a  fallacy  that  belongs  to  this 
rank  of  sophisms. 

2.  There  is  scarce  any  thing  more  common  in  human  life  than  this 
sort  of  deceitful  argument.  If  any  two  accidental  events  happen  to 
occur,  one  is  presently  made  the  cause  of  the  other. 

Example.  Jf  Titius  ivronged  his  neighbour  of  a  guinea*  and  in  six 
months  after  he  fell  dor^?i  and  broke  his  leg,  weak  men  will  impute  it 
to  the  divine  vengeance  on  Titius  for  his  former  injustice.  This 
sophism  was  found  also  in  the  early  days  of  the  world  :  for  ivhen  holy 
Job  -was  surrounded  with  uncommon  miseries,  his  own  friends  inferred, 
that  he  ivas  a  must  hehi'ms  criminal,  and  charged  him  with  aggravated 
.ffifiit  ax  the  cause  of  his  calamities,-  though  God  himself  by  a  voice 
from  heaven  solved  this  uncharitable  sophism,  and  cleared  his 
servant  Job  of  that  charge. 

Obs.  How  frequent  is  it  among  men  to  impute  crimes  to  person? 
not  actually  chargeable  with  them  ?  We  top  often  charge  that 
upon  the  wicked  contrivance  and  premeditated  malice  of  a  neigh- 
bour, which  arose  merely  from  ignorance,  or  from  an  unguarded 
temper.  And  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  have  a  mind  to  excuse 
ourselves,  we  practice  the  same  sophism,  and  charge  that  upon  our 
inadvertence  or  our  ignorance,  which  perhaps  was  designed  wick- 
edness. What  is  really  done  by  a  necessity  of  circumstances,  we 
sometimes  impute  to  choice.  And  again,  we  charge  that  upon  ne- 
cessity which  was  really  desired  and  chosen. 

507.  The  next  species  of  sophism  is  called  fallacia-acci- 
dentis,  or  a  sophism  wherein  we  pronounce  concerning  the 
nature  and  essential  properties  of  any  subject  according  to 
something  which  is  merely  accidental  to  it.     This  is  akin  to 
the  former,  and  is  also  very  frequent  in  human  life. 

Example  1.  So  if  opium  or  the  Peruvian  bark  has  been  used  im- 
prudently or  unsuccessfully,  whereby  the  patient  has  received  inju- 
ry, some  weaker  people  absolutely  pronounce  against  the  use  of  the 
bark  or  the  opium  upon  all  occasions  whatsoever,  and  are  ready  to 
call  them  poison. 

2.  So  wine  has  been  the  accidental  occasion  of  drunkenness  and 
quarrels;  learning  and  printing  may  have  been  the  accidental  cause 
of  sedition  in  a  state  ;  the  reading  of  the  Bible,  by  accident,  has  been 
abused  to  promote  heresies,  or  destructive  errors ;  and  for  these  rea- 
*OT?S  they  have  all  been  pronounced  rvit  thing*,  Mahomet  forbad 


248  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  r> 

his  followers  the  use  of  -wine :  the  Turks  discourage  learning'  i  n 
their  dominions ;  and  at  one  time  the  Scripture  was  forbidden  to  be 
read  by  the  Laity.  But  how  very  unreasonable  are  these  inferences, 
and  these  prohibitions  which  are  built  upon  them  ! 

508.  The   next  species  of  sophistry  is  REASONING  IN  A 
CIRCLE  ;  or  the  assuming  of  one  proposition  to  prove  anoth- 
er, and  then  resting  the  proof  of  the  first  on  the  evidence  of 
the  second.     The  Protestant  theologians  accuse  the  writer? 
of  the  church  of  Rome  of  committing  such  blunders.     "The 
Papal  theologians"  (say  both  the  Protestant  logicians,  Watts 
and  Barron]  "  first  prove  the  divine  authority  of  their  church 
from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  then  they  employ  the  infalli- 
bility of  the  Pope  to  confirm  their  interpretation  of  the 
Scriptures.     They  establish  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope  by 
the  testimony  of  the  senses,  and  they  employ  the  same  in- 
fallibility to  destroy  the  testimony  of  the  senses,  when  their 
antagonists  remonstrate  against  the  credibility  of  the  doc- 
trine of  transubstantiation." 

509.  The  sophisms  of  composition  and  division  come 
next  to  be  mentioned, 

Illus.  1.  The  sophism  of  composition  is  when  we  infer  any  thing 
concerning-  ideas  in  a  compounded  sense,  which  is  only  true  in  a  divi- 
ded sense. 

Example  1.  And  when  it  is  said  in  the  gospel  that  Christ  made 
the  blind  to  see,  and  the  deaf  to  hear,  and  the  lame  to  walk,  we  ought 
not  to  infer  hence  that  Christ  performed  contradictions  ;  but  those 
who  -were  bUnd  before,  were  made  to  see,  and  those  who  -were  deaf 
before,  were  made  to  hear,  &c.  So  when  the  Scripture  assures  us, 
the  -worst  of  sinners  may  be  saved;  it  signifies  only,  that  they  ivho  have 
been  the  rjorst  of  sinners  may  repent  and  be  saved,  not  that  they 
shall  be  saved  in  their  sins.  Or,  if  any  one  should  argue  thus,  T-wo 
and  three  are  even  and  odd :  Jive  are  t?vo  and  three  ;  therefore  Jive  ar<: 
even  and  odd.  Here,  that  is  very  falsely  inferred  concerning  tivo 
or  three  in  wiio?i,  which  is  only  true  of  them  divided. 

Illus.  2.  The  sophism  of  division  is  when  we  infer  the  same  thing- 
concerning  ideas  in  a  divided  sense,  which  is  only  true  in  a  compoun- 
ded sense  /  as,  if  we  should  pretend  to  prove  that  every  soldier  in  the 
Grecian  army  put  an  hundred  thousand  Persians  to  fight,  because  the 
Grecian  soldiers  did  so.  Or  if  a  man  should  argue  thus,  Jive  is  one 
number  .  two  and  three  are  five ;  therefore  two  and  three  are  one 
number. 

Obs.  Th;s  sort  of  sophism  is  committed  when  the  word  all  is 
taken  in  a  collective  and  a  distributive  sense,  without  a  due  distinc- 
tion ;  as  if  any  one  should  reason  thus ;  Jill  the  musical  instrument* 
oftheJe\v\sh  temple  made  a  noble  concert;  the  harp  was  a  musical 
instrument  of  the  Jewish  temple  therefore  the  harp  made  a  noble 
concert.  Here  the  word  all  in  the  major  is  collective,  whereas  suck 
a  conclusion  requires  that  the  word  all  should  be  distributive 


CHAP.  iv.  Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  249 

It  is  the  same  fallacy  when  the  universal  word  all  or  no  refers  to 
species  in  one  proposition,  and  to  individuals  in  another ;  as,  Jill  ani- 
mals -were  in  Noah's  ark  ;  therefore  no  animals  perished  in  the  food: 
whereas  in  the  premise  all  animals  signifies  every  kind  of  animals., 
which  does  not  exclude  or  deny  the  drowning1  of  a  thousand  indivi- 
duals. 

510.  The  last  sort  of  sophisms  arises  from  our  abuse  of 
the  ambiguity  of  words,  which  is  the  largest  and  most  exten- 
sive kind  of  fallacy  ;  and  indeed  several  of  the  former  falla- 
cies might  be  reduced  to  this  head. 

When  the  words  or  phrases  tire  plainly  equivocal,  they  are 
called  sophisms  of  equivocation;  as  if  we  should  argue  thus  : 
He  that  sends  forth  a  book  into  the  light,  desires  it  to  be  read : 
he  that  throws  a  book  into  the  fire,  sends  it  into  the  light; 
therefore  he  that  throws  a  book  into  the  fire  desires  it  to  be 
read. 

This  sophism,  as  well  as  the  foregoing,  and  all  of  the  like 
nature,  are  solved  by  showing  the  different  senses  of  the 
words,  terms,  or  phrases.  Here  light  in  the  major  proposi- 
tion signifies  the  public  view  of  the  world;  in  the  minor  it 
signifies  the  brightness  of  flame  and  fire  ;  and  therefore  the 
syllogism  has  four  terms,  or  rather  it  has  no  middle  term, 
and  proves  nothing. 

But  where  such  gross  equivocations  and  ambiguities  ap- 
pear in  arguments,  there  is  little  danger  of  imposing  upon 
ourselves  or  others.  The  greatest  danger,  and  which  we 
are  perpetually  exposed  to  in  reasoning,  is  where  the  two 
senses  or  significations  of  one  term  are  near  akin,  and  not 
plainly  distinguished,  and  yet  they  are  really  sufficiently 
different  in  their  sense  to  lead  us  into  great  mistakes  if  we 
are  not  watchful. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  REASONING  AND  SYLLOGISM. 

51 1.  IF  the  mere  conception  and  comparison  of  two  ideas 
would  always  show  us  whether  they  agree  or  disagree ;  then 
all  rational  propositions  would  be  matters  of  intelligence,  or 
first  principles,  and  there  would  be  no  use  of  reasoning,  or 
drawing  any  consequences.  It  is  the  narrowness  of  the  hu- 
ilnd  which  introduces  the  necessity  of  reasoning. 
22* 


250  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

When  we  are  unable  to  judge  of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  a 
proposition  in  an  immediate  manner,  by  the  mere  contem- 
plation of  its  subject  and  predicate,  we  are  then  constrained 
to  use  a  medium,  and  to  compare  each  of  them  with  some 
third  idea,  that  by  seeing  how  far  they  agree  or  disagree 
with  it,  we  may  be  able  to  judge  how  far  they  agree  or  dis- 
agree among  themselves. 

Example  1.  If  there  are  two  lines,  A  and  B,  and  I  know  not 
Whether  they  are  equal  or  not,  I  take  a  third  line  C,  or  an  inch,  and 
apply  it  to  each  of  them;  if  it  agree  with  them  both,  then  I  infer 
that  Ji  and  B  are  equal ;  but  if  it  agree  with  the  one  and  not  with 
the  other,  then  I  conclude  that  Ji  and  B  are  unequal :  if  it  agree 
with  neither  of  them,  there  can  be  no  comparison. 

2.  So  if  the  question  be,  whether  God  must  be -worshipped,  we  seek 
a  third  idea,  suppose  the  idea  of  a  Creator,  and  say, 

Our  Creator  must  be  -worshipped  ; 

God  is  our  Creator  ; 

Thereforet   God  must  be  -worshipped. 

.fllus.1.  The  comparison  of  this  third  idea,  with  the  two  distinct 
pails  of  the  question,  usually  requires  two  propositions,  which  are 
called  the  premises;  the  third  proposition  which  is  drawn  from 
them  is  the  conclusion,  wherein  the  question  itself  is  answered,  and 
the  subject  and  predicate  joined  either  in  the  negative  or  the  affir- 
mative. 

2.  The  foundation  of  all  affirmative  conclusions  is  laid  in  this  gen- 
eral truth,  ^'hat  so  far  as  two  proposed  ideas  agree  to  any  third 
idea,  they  agree  also  among  themselves.     The  character  of  Creator 
agrees  to  God,  and  worship  agrees  to  a   Creator,  therefore  -worship 
agrees  to  God. 

3.  The  foundatio7i  of  all  negative  conclusions  is  this,  That  where 
one  of  the  two  proposed  ideas  agrees  with  the  third  idea,  and  the 
other  disagrees  with  it,  they  must  needs  disagree  so  ikr  also  with 
one  another ;  as,  if  no  sinners  are  happy,  and  if  angels  are  happy, 
then  angels  are  not  sinners. 

Corol.  Thus  it  appears  what  is  the  strict  and  just  notion  of  a  syl- 
logism :  it  is  a  sentence  or  argument,  or,  a  step  of  an  argument, 
made  up  of  three  propositions,  so  disposed,  as  that  the  last  is  ne- 
cessarily inferred  from  those  which  go  before,  as  in  the  instances 
which  have  been  just  mentioned. 

I.  Of  the  Constitution  of  Syllogisms. 
512.  In  the  constitution  of  a  syllogism  two  things  may  be 
considered,  viz.  the  matter  and  the  form  of  it, 

I.  The  matter  of  which  a  syllogism  is  made  up,  is,  three  propo^i* 
tions ;  and  these  three  propositions  are  made   up  of  three  ideas  or. 
'terms  variously  joined. 

II.  The  three  terms  are  called  the  remote  matter  of  a  syllogism ;  and 
the  three  propositions  the  proximo  or  immediate  mattw  of  itf 


CHAP.  iv.  Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  £51 

513.  The  three  terms  are  named  the  major,  the  minor, 
and  the  middle. 

1.  The  predicate  of  the  conclusion  is  called  the  major  term,  be- 
cause it  is  generally  of  a  larger  extension  than  the  minor  term,  or 
the  subject.     The  major  and  minor  terms  are  called  the  extremes. 

U.  The  middle  term  is  the  third  idea  invented  and  disposed  in 
two  propositions,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  show  the  connection  be* 
tween  the  major  and  minor  term  in  the  conclusion  ;  for  which  reason 
the  middle  term  itself  is  sometimes  called  the  argument. 

514.  That  proposition  which  contains  the  predicate  of  the 
conclusion,  connected  with  the  middle  term,  is  usually  cal- 
led the  major  proposition,  whereas  the  minor  proposition 
connects  the  middle  term  with  the  subject  of  the  conclusion, 
and  is  sometimes  called  the  assumption. 

Note  1.  This  exact  distinction  of  the  several  parts  of  a  syllogism, 
and  of  the  major  and  minor  terms  connected  with  the  middle  term 
in  the  major  and  minor  propositions,  belongs  chiefly  to  simple  or 
categorical  syllogisms,  of  which  we  shall  speak  by  and  bye,  (Art.  522.) 
though  all  syllogisms  whatsoever  have  something  analogical  to  it. 

2.  That  the  major  proposition  is  generally  placed  first,  and  the 
minor  second,  and  the  conclusion  in  the  last  place,  where  the  syllo- 
gism is  regularly  composed  and  represented. 

515.  The  form  of  a  syllogism  is  the  framing  and  dispos- 
ing of  the  premises  according  to  art,  or  just  principles  of 
reasoning,  and  the  regular  inference  of  the  conclusion  from 
them. 

516.  The  act  of  reasoning,  or  inferring  one  thing  from 
another,  is  generally  expressed  and  known  by  the  particle 
therefore,  when  the  argument  is  formed  according  to  the 
rules  of  art;  though  in  common  discourse  or  writing,  such 
causal  particles  as/or,  because,  manifest  the  act  of  reasoning 
as  well  as  the  illative  particles  then  and  therefore:   and 
wheresoever  any  of  these  words  is  used,  there  is  a  perfect 
syllogism  expressed  or  implied,  though  perhaps  the  three 
propositions  do  not  appear,  or  are  not  placed  in  regular  form. 

517.  Each   proposition   possesses  quantity  and  quality. 
By  quantity  is  meant,  that  it  is  universal  or  particular  ;  by 
quality,  that  it  is  an  affirmative,  or  negative. 

fllus.  1.  An  universal  proposition,  (Jlrt.469.  Ulus.  1.)  includes  a 
whole  genus,  or  a  whole  species,  and  affirms  or  denies  something  of 
them.  The  major  proposition  of  the  following  syllogism  is  an  eX- 
ample;  as, 

"  All  animals  are  mortal ; 
Man  is  an  animal ; 
Therefore,  man  is  mortal.'* 


«#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i\ 

"  All  animals  are  mortal,"  is  an  universal  affirmative  proposition. 
Mortality  is  affirmed  of  the  whole  genus  of  animals. 

"  No  animal  can  live  without  food,"  is  an  universal  negative  pro- 
position. 

2.  A  particular  proposition  includes  only  a  part  of  a  genus  or  of  a 
species,  and  affirms  or  denies  something  of  it.  (Illus.  2.  Art.  469.) 
Accordingly,  "  Some  animals  are  long  lived,"  is  &  particular  affirm- 
ative proposition.  "  Some  animals  are  not  endowed  with  reason," 
is  a  particular  negative  proposition. 

Corol.  1.  Hence  it  appears  that  four  sorts  of  propositions  only  can 
enter  a  syllogism ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  syllogisms,  are  divided 
into  four  kinds,  either  according  to  the  question  which  is  proved 
by  them,  according  to  their  own  nature  and  composition,  or  accord- 
ing to  the  middle  term,  which  is  used  to  prove  the  question.  They 
must  be  either  universal  affirmatives,  or  universal  negatives,  particu- 
lar affirmatives,  or  particular  negatives. 

2.  The  general  principle  upon  which  these  universal  and  particu- 
lar syllogisms  are  founded,  is  this,  Whatsoever  is  affirmed  or  denied 
universally  of  any  idea,  may  be  affirmed  or  denied  of  all  the  particu- 
lar kinds  or  beings,  which  are  contained  in  the  extension  of  that 
universal  idea. 

Note.  In  the  doctrine  of  syllogisms,  a  singular  and  an  indefinite 
proposition  are  ranked  among  universals. 

518.  These  four  sorts  of  propositions,  for  the  convenience 
of  distinguishing  them,  are  denominated  by  the  four  follow- 
ing vowels,  a,  e,  i,  o.  (Art  536.,) 

J),  signifies  universal  affirmative  ;  e,  universal  negative  ; 
i,  particular  affirmative ;    and  o,  particular  negative.     To 
assist  the  memory,  these  vowels  and  their  properties  are 
formed  into  the  two  following  monkish  verses  : 
Asserit  E  negat  A,  sed  universaliter  ambse. 
Asserit  i  negat  o,  sed  parti culariter  ambze. 

Scholia  1.  We  have  now  seen  that  although  a  syllogism  consists 
of  three  propositions,  it  contains  only  three  ideas,  which  are  called 
terms,  each  of  which  is  twice  repeated,  to  make  up  the  propositions. 
(^r*.511.) 

2.  That  one  of  these  ideas,  which  is  always  the  predicate  of  the 
conclusion  is  called  the  major  term ;  another,  the  minor  term,  which 
is  always  the  subject  of  the  conclusion  ;  and  the  third  the  middle  term., 
(Art.  513.) 

3.  The  reasoning  of  the  syllogism  lies  in  pointing  out  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  the  major  and  minor  terms,  by  comparing 
them  with  the  middle  term.     (Art.  517.) 

4.  The  middle  term  never  appears  in  the  conclusion,  or  third  pro- 
position ; — it  is  compared  successively  with  the  major  and  minor 
terms  in  the  ttoo first  propositions,  or  premises,  as  they  are  sometimes 
called.     It  is  twice  repeated  in  the  premises;    it  may  bt-  either  the 
.predicate  of  the  major  premise,  and  the  subject  of  the  minor     or,  it 
may  be  tjie  subject  of  the  major  premise,  and  predicate  of  the  minor. 


.  iv.  Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  25S 

In  like  manner,  both  the  major  and  minor  terms  stand  once  in  each 
premise,  and  they  are  both  repeated  in  the  conclusion. 

Example.  In  the  syllogism  formerly  quoted,  (Art.  517.)  the  minor 
term  is  MAN,  the  major  term  is  MORTAL,  the  middle  term  is  ANIMAL, 
Fn  the  Jirst  premise,  "  all  animals  are  mortal,"  the  middle  term 
\XIMAL,  is  compared  with  the  major  term  MORTAL.  Animal  is  the 
SUBJECT;  mortal  is  the  PREDICATE;  and  it  is  affirmed,  or  predicated 
of  all  animals,  that  they  are  mortal.  In  the  second  premise,  "  man  is 
an  animal,"  MAN,  the  minor  term,  is  compared  with  ANIMAL,  the 
middle  term ;  and  it  is  affirmed,  or  predicated  of  man,  that  he  is  an 
jnimal.  The  middle  term,  ANIMAL,  is  the  subject  of  the  former  pre- 
mise, and  the  predicate  of  the  latter.  In  the  conclusion,  "  man  is 
mortal,"  the  minor  term,  MAX,  is  inferred  to  agree  with  the  major 
term,  MORTAL,  because,  in  the  premises,  they  were  both  found  to 
agree  with  the  same  middle  term,  ANIMAL. 

II.  Of  plain  simple  Syllogisms,  and  their  Rules. 

519.  THE  next  division  of  syllogisms  is  into  single  and 
compound.     This  is  drawn  from  their  nature  and  compo- 
sition. 

520.  Single  syllogisms  are  made  up  of  three  propositions  : 
impound  syllogisms  contain  more  than  three  propositions, 

and  may  be  formed  into  two  or  more  syllogisms. 

521.  Single  syllogisms,  for  distinction's  sake,  may  be 
divided  into  *  simple,  complex,  and  conjunctive. 

522.  Those  are  properly  called  simple  or  categorical  syl- 
logisms, which  are  made  up  of  three  plain,  single  or  cate- 
gorical propositions,  wherein  the  middle  term  is  evidently 
and  regularly  joined  with  one  part  of  the  question  in  the  ma- 
jor proposition,  and  with  the  other  in  the  minor,  whence 
there  follows  a  plain  single  conclusion;  as,  every  human 
virtue  is  to  be  sought  with  diligence;  prwlence  is  human 
virtue  ;  therefore  prudence  is  to  he  sought  diligently. 

Obs.  Though  the  terms  of  propositions  may  be  complex,  yet  where 
the  composition  of  the  whole  argument  is  thus  plain,  simple,  and  re- 
gular, it  is  properly  called  a  simple  syllogism,  since  the  complex^ ' 
does  not  belong  to  the  syllogistic  form  of  it. 

523.  Simple  syllogisms  have  several  rules  belonging  to 
them,  which  being  observed,  will  generally  secure  us  from 
false  inferences :  but  these  rules  are  founded  on  four  gene- 
ral axioms. 

524.  Axiom  1.  Particular  propositions  are  contained  in 
universal s,  and  may  be  inferred  from  them;  but  universals 

*  As  ideas  and  propositions  are  divided  into  single  and  compound, 
and  singlo  are  subdivided  into  simple  and  complex ,-  so  there  are  tlr, 
pame  divisions  and  subdivisions  applied  to  syllogisms. 


£54  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv, 

are  not  contained  ill  particulars,  nor  can  they  be  inferred 
from  them. 

525.  Axiom  2.  In  all  universal  propositions,  the  subject 
is  universal :  in  all  particular  propositions,  the  subject  is 
particular. 

526.  Axiom  3.  In  all  affirmative  propositions,  the  predi- 
cate has  no  greater  extension  than  the  subject ;    for  its 
extension  is  restrained  by  the  subject,  and  therefore  it  is 
always  to  be  esteemed  as  a  particular  idea.     It  is  by  mere 
accident,  if  it  be  ever  taken  universally,  and  cannot  happen 
but  in  such  universal  or  singular  propositions  as  are  recip- 
rocal. 

527.  Axiom  4.  The  predicate  of  a  negative  proposition  is 
always  taken  universally,  for  in  its  whole  extension  it  is 

lenied  of  the  subject.     If  we  gay  no  stone  is  vegetable,  we 


deny  all  sorts  of  vegetation  concerning  stones. 

The  Rules  of  simple  regular  Syllogisms,  are  these  : 

528.  Rule  I.  The  middle  term  must  not  be  taken  twice 
particularly,  but  once  at  least  universally.   For  if  the  middle 
term  be  taken  from  two  different  parts  or  kinds  of  the  same 
universal  idea,  then,  the  subject  of  the  conclusion  is  com- 
pared  with   one   of  these   parts,   and  the  predicate   with 
another  part,  and  this  will  never  show  whether  that  subject 
and   predi'  -;?fe  a^iee  or  disagree:   there  will  then  be  four 
distinct  i«i-m.<   in  the  syllogism,  and  the  two  parts  of  the 
question  will  not  be  compared  with  the  same  third  idea;  as 
if  I  say,  some  men  are  pious,  and  some  men  are  robbers,  I 
can  never  infer  that  some  robbers  are  pious,  for  the  middle 
term  men  being  taken  twice  particularly,  it  is  not  the  same 
men  who  are  spoken  of  in  the  major  and  minor  propositions. 

529.  Rule  IF.  The  terms  in  the  conclusion  must  never  be 
takers  more  universally  than  they  are  in  the  premises.     The 
reason  is  derived  from  the  first  axiom,  (Art.  524.)  that  gen- 
crals  can  never  be  inferred  from  particulars. 

530.  Rule  III.  A  negative  conclusion  cannot  be  proved 
'o  affirmative  premises.     For  when  the  two  terms  of 

tiv  Conclusion  are  united,  or  agree  to  the  middle  term,  it 
ilo^  not  follow  by  any  means  that  they  disagree  from  one 
another* 

531.  Rule  IV.  If  one  of  the  premises  be  negative,  the  con- 
clusion must  be  negative.     For  if  the  middle  term  be  denied 
of  either  part  of  the  conclusion,  it  may  show  that  the  terms 
of  the  conclusion  disagree,  but  it  can.  never  show  that  they 
agree. 


OHAP.  iv.  Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  ^3;> 

532.  Ride  V.  If  either  of  the  premises  be  particular,  fh( 
conclusion  must  be  particular.     This  may  be  proved  lor  the 
most  part  from  the  first  axiom. 

Obs.  These  two  last  rules  are  sometimes  united  in  this  single  sen- 
tence,   The  conclusion  akvays  follows  the  wetiker  part  of  the  pre.minet» . 
Now  negatives  and  particulars  arc  counted  inferior  to  affirm: L< 
and  universals. 

533.  Rule  VI.  From  two  negative  premises  nothing  can 
be  concluded.     For  they  separate  the  middle  term  both  from 
the  subject  and  predicate  of  the  conclusion,  and  when  two 
ideas  disagree  to  a  third,   we  cannot  infer  that  they  either 
agree  or  disagree  with  each  other. 

Obs.  Yet  where  tl.  -  is  a  part  of  the  middle  term,  the  two 

premises  may  look  like  negatives  according"  to  the  words,  but  one 
of  them  is  affirmative  in  sense  :  as,  What  has  no  thought  cannot  rea- 
son ;  but  a  ivorm  has  no  thought ;  therefore  a  icoi-m  cannot  reason. 
The  minor  proposition  does  really  affirm  the  middle  term  concern- 
ing" the  subject,  namely,  a  wi/rm  is  what  has  no  tliought,  and,  thus, 
it  is  properly,  in  this  syllogism,  an  affirmative  proposition. 

534.  Rule  VII.  From  two  Particular  Premises  nothing 
can  be  concluded.     This  rule  depends  chiefly  on  the  first 
axiom. 

III.   Of  the  Modes  and  Figures  of  simple  Syllogisms. 

535.  The  FIGURE  of  a  syllogism  is  the  proper  disposition 
of  the  middle  term,  with  the  parts  of  the  question. 

Ilhts.  The  middle  term  may  be  the  subject  of  the  major  premise, 
and  the  predicate  of  the  minor,  when  the  syllogism  is  of  the  first 
figure  ;  f  See  Art.  543  J 

Or,  it  may  be  the  predicate  of  both  premises,  which  makes  the 
syllog'ism  of  the  second  figure  /  (See  Art.  544.  J 

Or,  it  may  be  the  subject  of  both  premises  when  the  syllog'ism 
will  be  of  the  third  figure  ;  (See  Art.  545.  J 

Or,  it  may  be  the  predicate  of  the  major  premise,  and  the  subject 
of  the  minor,  when  the  syllog'ism  will  be  of  the  fourth  figure. 

Corol.  As  the  middle  term  never  appears  in  the  conclusion,  and 
must  appear  twice  in  the  premises,  it  will  appear,  that  these  four 
are  all  the  positions  of  which  it  is  susceptible ;  and  consequently 
that  the  number  of  figures  must  also  be  four. 

JVote.  The  examples  of  each  figure  are  deferred  till  we  shall  have 
explained  the  meaning1  of  mode,  when  the  same  examples  will  serve 
to  illustrate  both  figures  and  modes. 

536.  All  syllogisms  are  composed  of  four  sorts  of  propo- 
sitions;   universal  affirmatives,   or  universal   negatives; 
particular  affirmatives^  or  particular  negatives ;  and  these 
propositions  are  discriminated  by  the  vowels  «,  e,  i,  o.    (Art. 


256  «/2  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

518.)     Now  the  MODE  of  a  syllogism,  is  determined  by  the 
species  of  the  propositions  of  which  it  is  composed. 

Illus.  1.  These  species  may  be  THREE  universal  affirmatives  mark- 
ed by  THREE  a's ; 

Or  THREE  universal  negatives  marked  by  THREE  e's; 

Or  THREE  particular  affirmatives  marked  by  THREE  i's ; 

Or  THREE  particular  negatives  marked  by  THREE  o's ; 

Or,  they  may  be  TWO  universal  affirmatives,  and  OXE  universal  ne- 
gative, marked  by  TWO  a's  and  one  e ; 

Or  TWO  universal  affirmatives,  and  ONE  particular  affirmative, 
marked  by  TWO  a's  and  one  i ; 

Or  TWO  universal  affirmatives,  and  ONE  particular  negative,  mark- 
ed by  TWO  a's  and  one  o. 

2.  Each  of  these  combinations  makes  a  Mode  ;  and  there  may  be 
as  many  modes  in  each  figure,  as  there  are  possible  combinations  of 
the  four  vowels.  It  is  found,  by  computation,  that  the  number  of 
possible  combinations  is  no  fewer  than  sixty-four  for  each  figure,  so 
that  all  the  four  figures  will  furnish  two  hundred  and  fifty -six  modes. 

537.  But  of  these  possible  modes,  a  few  only  form  legiti- 
mate syllogisms.     The  FIRST  FIGURE  has  no  more  than  four 
conclusive  modes;  one  consisting  of  three  universal  propo- 
sitions, denoted  by  three  a's,  to  which  the  schoolmen  have 
given  the  name  of  Barbara^  because  it  contains  the  vowel  a 
three  times. 

538.  A  second,  consisting  of  an  universal  major  proposi- 
tion, an  universal  affirmative  minor  proposition,  and  an  uni- 
versal negative  conclusion,  denoted  by  the  vowels  e,  a,  e> 
to  which  has  been  given  the  name  of  Celarent,  because  the 
vowels  of  this  mode  form  the  vowels  of  that  word. 

539.  A  third,  containing  an  universal  affirmative  major 
proposition,  a  particular  affirmative  minor  proposition,  and 
a  particular  affirmative  conclusion,  denoted  by  the  letters 
a,  i,  i,  out  of  which  is  formed  the  word  Darii,  For  the  name 
of  this  mode. 

540.  A  fourth,  consisting  of  an  universal  negative  major 
premise,  and  a  particular  affirmative  minor  premise,  and  a 
particular  negative  conclusion,  marked  by  the  vowels  e,  i,  o, 
of  which  has  been  formed  the  word  Ferio,  for  the  name  of 
the  last  mode. 

541.  In  the  SECOND  FIGURE  are  found  also  four  conclu- 
sive modes;  and  the  quantity  and  quality  of  their  propor- 
tions will  be  readily  comprehended  from  their  names,  in 
which,  as  in  the  preceding  figure,  the  vowels  only  are  signi- 
ficant.    Cesareis  rhe  name  of  the  first  mode;  Cctmestres,  of 
the  second ;  JFestino,  of  the  third ;  Baroco,  of  die  fourth. 


CHAP.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism. 

542.  The  THIRD  FIGURE  has  six  modes,  denoted  by  the 
hard  words,  Darapti,  .Felapton,  Disamis,  Datisi,  Bocarclo, 
Ferison. 

Carol.  Hence  it  appears  that  all  the  legitimate  modes  of  the  three 
first  figures  are  no  more  than  fourteen.  The  names  of  these  modes 
and  figures  were,  to  aid  the  memory,  formed  by  the  schoolmen  into 
the  following  barbarous  hexameters  : 

Barbara^  Celarent,  Darii,  Ferio,  dato  primae  ; 

Cesarey  Camestres,  Festino,  Barocot  secundx ; 

Tertia  grande  sonans  recitat  Darapti t  Felapton  ,- 

Adjungens  Disamis,  Datisi,  Bocardot  Ferison. 
Note.   Aristotle  has  not  treated  separately  of  the  modes  of  the 
fourth  figure,  because  he  found  they  could  be  reduced  to  those  of 
the  former  figures.     We  follow  his  example. 

543.  We  shall  now  offer  some  examples  to  illustrate  the 
theories  which  we  have  endeavoured  to  explain.    The  fol- 
lowing example  is  a  syllogism  of  the  FIRST  FIGURE,  and  of 
the  mode  Barbara : 

BAR  All  bad  men  are  miserable ; 

BA     AH  tyrants  are  bad  men  ; 

IIA     Therefore,  all  tyrants  are  miserable. 

Analysis.  The  major  term  is  "miserable,"  the  minor  term  is 
"-  tyrants,"  and  the  middle  term  is  "  bad  men."  The  middle  term 
is  the  subject  of  the  major  premise,  "all  bad  men  are  miserable," 
and  the  predicate  of  the  minor  premise,  "all  tyrants  are  bad  men." 
The  syllogism  is  therefore  of  the  first  figure,  which  requires  these 
positions  of  the  middle  term.  The  propositions  are  all  universal 
affirmatives ;  consequently,  the  mode  is  Barbara.  (Art.  537.) 

544.  The  next  shall  be  an  example  of  the  SECOND  FIG- 
URE, and  of  the  mode  Cesar  e. 

CE  No  deceitful  man  merits  confidence ; 

SA  All  honest  men  merit  confidence  ; 

HE  Therefore,  no  honest  man  is  deceitful. 

Analysis.  "Deceitful,"  is  the  major  term  :  "honest  man,"  is  the 
ninor  term ;  and  "merits  confidence,"  is  the  middle  term.  The 
middle  term  is  the  predicate  of  both  the  premises,  "  no  deceitful 
man  merits  confidence,"  "all  honest  men  merit  confidence,"  which 
are  the  situations  of  the  middle  term  required  by  the  second  figure. 
The  first  premise  is  universal  negative,  marked  by  the  letter  e?,  "  no 
deceitful  man  merits  confidence ;"  the  second  universal  affirmative 
marked  by  the  letter  a,  "  all  honest  men  merit  confidence ;"  the 
conclusion  universal  negative,  marked  again  by  the  letter  e,  "  no 
honest  man  is  deceitful."  These  letters  constitute  tjie  mode  Cesare. 
(Art.  541.) 

545.  The  subsequent  syllogism  is  of  the  THIRD  FIGURE, 
and  of  the  mode  Darapti. 


258  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  iv- 

BA     All  good  men  are  happy ; 

HAP  All  good  men  hate  the  devil ; 

TI      Therefore,  some  men  who  hate  the  devil  are  happy. 

Analysis.  The  major  term  is,  "  happy ;"  the  minor  term  is,  "  hate 
the  devil ;"  and  the  middle  term  is,  "  good  men."  The  middle 
term  is  the  subject  of  both  premises,  "  all  good  men  are  happy," 
"  all  good  men  hate  the  devil,"  which  constitutes  a  syllogism  of  the 
third  figure.  The  major  premise,  "  all  good  men  are  happy,"  is  an 
universal  affirmative  ;  the  minor  premise,  "  all  good  men  hate  the 
devil,"  is  the  same :  the  conclusion,  "  some  men  who  hate  the 
devil  are  happy,"  is  a  particular  affirmative.  The  two  premises  are 
noted  by  the  two  a's,  the  conclusion  by  *,  and  these  letters  form  the 
mode,  Darapti.  (Art.  542.) 

We  have  now  produced  an  example  of  a  mode  of  each 
figure.  It  would  be  tedious  to  exemplify  all  the  modes ; 
but  to  prevent  suspicion  of  unfair  dealing  in  this  branch  of 
logic,  we  shall,  from  the  different  figures  and  modes,  add  a 
few  instances  promiscuously,  to  illustrate  further  the  nature 
of  this  famous  instrument  of  reasoning. 

546.  The  following  syllogism  is  of  the  mode  Bocardo, 
which  belongs  to  the  third  figure.     The  name  shews,  that 
the   first  premise,  o,  must  be  a  particular  negative;    the 
second  premise,  «,  an  universal  affirmative;   and  the  con- 
clusion, o,  a  particular  negative.     The  third  figure  requires 
the  middle  term  to  be  the  subject  of  both  premises;  all  these 
requisites  are  thus  fulfilled. 

BO    Some  good  men  are  not  rich  ; 

CAB  All  good  men  are  happy ; 

DO    Therefore,  some  happy  men  are  not  rich  men. 

547.  The  next  example  is  of  Camestres,  a  mode  of  the 
second  figure. 

CAM  All  men  are  animals  ; 

EST  No  stone  is  an  animal ; 

BES  Therefore,  no  stone  is  a  man. 

Analysis.  "  Animal,"  is  the  middle  term,  and  is  the  predicate  ot 
both  premises,  as  required  by  the  second  figure.  The  first  premise, 
is  a,  universal  affirmative  ;  the  second,  c,  universal  negative ;  the 
conclusion,  <?,  also  universal  negative.  Hence  the  mode  Camestre? 

548.  The  mode  Darii  shall  furnish  another  example. 

DA  Every  thing  base  should  be  avoided ; 

HI   Some  pleasures  are  base  ; 

i      Therefore,  some  pleasures  should  be  avoided. 

Analysis.  "  Avoided,"  is  the  major  term  ;  "  pleasures,"  the  minor 
term;  "  base,"  the  middle  term.  Base,  is  the  subject  of  the  major 
premise,  and  the  predicate  of  the  minor,  which  refers  the  syllogism 
tb  the  first  figure.  The  first  premise  marked  ft,  is  universal  affirm- 


.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  259 

ative  ;   the  second  premise  and  the  conclusion  are  marked  i,  i,  par- 
ticular affirmatives  ;  hence  the  mode  Darli.  (Jlrt.  589.) 

549.  In  each  figure  there  are  singular  syllogisms,  or  syl- 
Ipoisms  relative  to  individuals,  which  cannot  be  reduced  to 
any  of  the  modes.     They  are  allowed,  how  ever,  to  be  legiti- 
mate syllogisms,  and  they  are  constructed  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple with   the  rest.     The  only  difference  is,  that  all  the 
established  modes  refer  to  genus  and  species  :  these  refer  to 
species  and  individuals. 

Every  traitor  deserves  death ; 

Judas  was  a  traitor ; 

Therefore,  Judas  deserved  death. 

This  syllogism  is  of  the  first  figure,  where  the  middle  term  "  trai- 
tor," is  the  subject  of  the  major  premise,  and  the  predicate  of  the 
minor  premise. 

550.  The  following  is  a  particular  example  of  the  second 
figure : 

Socrates  was  an  ugly  man : 
Plato  was  not  an  ugly  man  ; 
Therefore,  Plato  was  riot  Socrates. 
The  middle  term,  "  ugly,"  is  the  predicate  of  both  premises 

551.  A  particular  example  of  the  third  figure. 

Judas  did  not  obtain  salvation ; 
Judas  was'an  apostle ; 

T;  erefore,  c-.o-y  apostle  did  not  obtain  salvation. 
"  Judas,"  is  ':!K  mitlt'.e  term,  and  the  subject  of  both  premises,  ac- 
cording1 to  the  requisitions  of  the  third  figure. 

IV.  Of  Complex  Syllogisms. 

552.  It,  is  not  the  mere  use  of  c^nnplfx  terms  in  a  syllo- 
gism that  gives  it  this  name,  though  one  of.  the  terms  is 
usually  complex ;    but   those  are  properly  called  complex 
syllogisms,  in  which  the  middle  term  is  ui;t  connected  \v;tli 
the  whole  subject,  or  the  whole  predicate  in  two  distinct 
propositions,  but  is  intermingled  and  compared  \vith  them 
by  parts,  or  in  a  more  confused  manner,  in  different  forms 
of  speech  ;  as, 

The  sun  is  a  senseless  being ;     • 
The  Persians  worshipped  the  sun ; 
Therefore,  the  Persians  worshipped  a  senseless  being. 
Here  the  predicate  of  the  conclusion  is  "  -worshipped  a  senseless 
being"  part  of  which  "  a  senseless  being,"  is  joined  with  the  middle 
term  sun  in  the  major  proposition,  and  the  other  part  "  worship- 
ped" in  the  minor. 

Obs.  Though  this  sort  of  argument  is  confessed  to  be  entangled  or 
d*  and  irregular,  if  examined  by  the  rules  of  simple  syllogisms? 


260  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  r* . 

yet  there  is  a  great  variety  of  arguments  used  in  books  of  learning, 
and  in  common  life,  whose  consequence  is  strong  and  evident,  and 
which  must  be  ranked  under  this  head  ;  as,  in  the  five  following 
cases. 

553.  (I.)  Exclusive  propositions  will  form  a  complex  ar- 
gument; as, 

Pious  men  are  the  only  favourites  of  heaven  ; 
True  Christians  are  favourites  of  heaven; 
Therefore,  true  Christians  are  pious  men. 
Or  thus,  hypocrites  are  not  pious  men  ; 
Therefore,  hypocrites  are  not  favourites  of  heaven. 

.554.  (II.)  Exceptive  propositions  will  make  such  complex 
syllogisms;  as, 

None  but  physicians  came  to  the  consultation  ; 

The  nurse  is  no  physician  ; 

Therefore,  the  nurse  came  not  to  the  consultation 

555.  (III.)  Or,  comparative  propositions ;  as, 

Knowledge  is  better  than  riches ; 

Virtue  is  better  than  knowledge  ; 

Therefore,  virtue  is  better  than  riches  : 

Or  thus,  A  dove  will  fly  a  mile  in  a  minute  ; 

A  swallow  flies  swifter  than  a  dove ; 

Therefore,  a  swallow  will  fly  more  than  a  mile  in  a  minute, 

556.  (IV.)  Inceptive  and  desitive  propositions :  as, 

The  fogs  vanish  as  the  sun  rises; 

But  the  fogs  have  not  yet  begun  to  vanish  ; 

Therefore,  the  sun  is  not  yet  risen. 

557.  (V.)  Or,  modal  propositions;  as, 

It  is  necessary  that  a  General  understand  the  art  of  war ; 
But  Cains  does  not  understand  the  art  of  war  ; 
Therefore,  it  is  necessary  Caius  should  not  be  a  General. 

Or  thus,  A  total  eclipse  of  the  sun  would  cause  darkness  at  noon; 
It  is  possible  that  the  moon  at  that  time  may  totally  eclipse  the  sun ; 
Therefore,  it  is  possible  that  the  moon  may  cause  darkness  at  noon 

558.  Besides  all  these,  there  is  a  greater  number  of  com- 
plex syllogisms  which  can  hardly  be  reduced  under  any 
particular  titles,  because  the  forms  of  human  language  are 
so  exceedingly  various;  as, 

Example  1.  Christianity  requires  us  to  believe  what  the  Apostles 

wrote  ;  St.  Paul  is  an  Apostle  ; 
Therefore,  Christianity  requires  us  to  believe  what  St.  Paul  wrote 

2,  No  human  artist  can  make  an  animal  j 
A  fly  or  a  worm  is  an  animal ; 
Therefore,  no  human  artist  can  make  a  fly  or  a  worm. 


OH  A  P.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  C261 

3.  The  father  always  lived  in  London  ; 
The  son  always  lived  with  the  father ; 
Therefore,  the  son  always  lived  in  London 

4.  The  blossom  soon  follows  the  full  bud  ; 
This  pear-tree  hath  many  full  buds ; 
Therefore,  it  will  shortly  have  many  blossoms 

5.  One  hailstone  never  falls  alone ; 
But  a  hailstone  fell  just  now  ; 
Therefore,  others  fell  with  it. 

6.  Thunder  seldom  comes  without  lightning- ; 
But  it  thundered  yesterday ; 
Therefore,  probably  it  lightened  also. 

7.  Moses  wrote  before  the  Trojan  war ; 

The  first  Greek  historians  wrote  after  the  Trojan  war , 
Therefore  the  first  Greek  historians  wrote  after  Moses. 
Note.  Perhaps  some  of  these  syllogisms  may  be  reduced  to  those 
which  are  called  conncxirc  ;  (Art.  566.)  but  it  is  of  little  moment  to 
what  spe<  :long;  for  it  is  not  any  formal  set  of  rules,  so 

much  as  the  evidence  and  force  of  reason,  that  must  determine  the 
truth  or  falsehood  of  all  such  syllogisms. 

CoroL  Now  the  force  of  all  these  arguments  is  so  evident  and 
conclusive,  that  though  the  form  of  the  syllogism  be  irregular,  we 
are  sure  the  inferences  are  just  and  true  ;  for  the  premises,  accord- 
ing to  the  reason  of  things,  do  really  cn?itain  the  conclusion  that  is 
deduced  from  them,  which  is  a  never-failing  test  of  a  true  syllogism, 
as  shall  be  shown  hereafter. 

559.  The  truth  of  most  of theye  complex  syllogisms,  may 
also  be  made  to  appear,  if  needful,  by  reducing  them  either 
to  regular,  simple  syllogisms,  or  to  some  of  the  conjunctive 
syllogisms,  which  are  described  in  the  next  section.     We 
will  give  an  instance  only  in  the  first,  and  leave  the  rest  to 
exercise  the  ingenuity  of  the  reader. 

Example  1.  The  first  argument  may  be  reduced  to  a  syllogism  in 
Barbara,  thus, 

The  sun  is  a  senseless  being  ; 
What  the  Persians  worshipped,  is  the  sun  ; 
Therefore  what  the  Persians  worshipped  is  a  senseless  being'. 
Though  the  conclusive  force  of  this  argument  is  evident  without 
the  reduction. 

V.  Of  Conjunctive  Syllogisms. 

560.  Those  are  called  conjunctive  syllogisms,  wherein 
one  of  the  premises,  namely  the  major,  has  distinct  parts, 
w}iich  are  joined  by  a  conjunction,  or  some  such  particle  of 
speech.     Most  times  the  major  or  minor,  or  both,  are  expli- 
citly compound  prepositions  ;  and  generally  the  major  propo- 
sition is  \»ade  up  of  two  distinct  parts  or  propositions,  in 

23* 


Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  i\, 

such  a  manner,  as  that  by  the  assertion  of  one  in  the  minor, 
the  other  is  either  asserted  or  denied  in  the  conclusion;  or. 
by  the  denial  of  one  in  the  minor,  the  other  is  either  assert- 
ed or  denied  in  the  conclusion.  It  is  hardly  possible,  indeed, 
to  fit  any  short  definition  to  include  all  the  kinds  of  these; 
but  the  chief  amongst  them  are  the  conditional  syllogism,  the 
disjunctive,  the  relative,  and  the  connexive. 

561.  (I.)  The  conditional  or  hypothetical  syllogism,  is 
that  whose  major  or  minor,  or  both,  are  conditional  proposi- 
tions; as, 

If  there  be  a  God,  the  world  is  governed  by  Providence  ; 
But  there  is  a  God ; 

Therefore,  the  world  is  governed  by  Providence. 
Illus.  1.  These  syllogisms  admit  two  sorts  of  true*  argumentation, 
vvhether  the  major  is  co?uUtloncil  or  not. 

I.  When  the  antecedent  is  asserted  in  the  mJAoe^that  the  conse- 
quent may  be  asserted  in  the   conclusion;  such  is  the  preceding 

•.xample.  This  is  called  arguing  from  the  position  of  the  antecedent  to 
'he  position  of  t lie  co?iscquent. 

II.  When  the  consequent  is  contradicted  in  the  minor  proposition, 
that  the  antecedent  may  be  contradicted  in  the  conclusion ;  as, 

If  atheists  arc  in  the  right,  then  the  \vorld  exists  without  a 

cause  ; 

But  the  world  does  not  exist  without  a  cause; 
Therefore,  atheists  are  not  in  the  right. 

This  is  called  arguing'  from  the  removing  of  the  consequent  to  the  re- 
moving of  the  antecrt! 

Illus.  2.  To  remove  the  antecedent  or  consequent  here,  does  not 
merely  signify  the  denial  of  it,  but  the  contradiction  of  it,  for  the 
mere  denial  of  it  by  a  contrary  proposition  will  not  make  a  true  syllo- 
gism, as  appears  thus : 

If  every  creature  be  reasonable,  every  brute  is  reasonable  ; 
But  no  brute  is  reasonable  ; 
Therefore,  no  creature  is  reasonable. 

Whereas,  if  you  say  in  the  minor,  every  brute  is  not  reasonable, 
then  it  would  follow  truly  in  the  conclusion,  therefore  every  creature 
is  not  reasonable. 

Illus.  3.  When  the  antecedent  or  consequent  are  negative  propo- 
sitions, they  are  removed  by  an  affirmative;  as, 

If  there  be  no  Gcd,  then  the  world  does  not  discover  creative 

wisdom ; 

But  the  world  does  discover  creative  wisdom ; 
Therefore,  there  is  a  God. 

In  this  instance  the  consequent  is  removed  or  contradicted  in  the 
minor,  that  the  antecedent  may  be  contradicted  in  the  conclusion. 
So  in  this  argument  of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  xv . 

If  the  dead  rise  not,  Christ  died  in  vain  •, 
But  Christ  did  not  die  in  vain  ; 
Therefore,  the  dead  shall  rise 


.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllngifm.  263 

562.  There  are  also  two  sorts  of  false  arguing, 

I.  From  the  removing  of  the  antecedent  to  the  removing 
of  the  consequent; 

Or,  II.  From  the  position  of  the  consequent,  to  the  [; 

<>f  the  antecedent. 
Examples  of  these  are  easily  framed;  as, 

1.  If  a  minister  were  a  prince  he  must  be  honoured  ; 
But  a  minister  is  not  a  prince  ; 

Therefore,  he  must  not  be  honoured. 

2.  If  a  minister  were  a  prince,  he  must  be  honouiv 
But  a  minister  must  be  honoured  , 
Therefore,  he  is  a  prince. 

o  sees  not  UK-  t  t  both  these:  syllogisms? 

Obs.  1.  If  th  nt  and  the  consequent  lu 

:he  hypothetical  syllogism  may  be  turned  into  a  cafe- 
honoured  ;  but 

king1 ;  therefore,  £.c.     This  may  be  diangcd  thus,  Every 
must  be  honoured  :   but  (\vsar  is  a  kin^  ;   therefore,  &c. 
•        5  mo/or  proposition  only  b<  .elusion  is 

.-  but  if  the  minor  or  both  be  cmiditi'tna!,  the  conclusion  is 

If  the  Romans  worship  a  crucifix,  the}  are  worshippers  of  an 

imafi 

Therefore,  if  the  Romans  worship  a  crucifix  they  are  idolaters. 

But  this  sort  of  >yi  .ided  as  much  as  possible 

\  disputation,  itly  rmlxtrr  ^e  :    The  syllo- 

bothetical)  are  \ciy  frequent,  and  used 

563.  (II.)    \  i  en  the  major  pro  - 

io:i  is  (iiv,n.n; •• 

The  earth  moves  in  a  circle  or  an  ellipsis  ; 
But  it  does  not  move  in  a  circle  ; 
Therefore,  it  moves  in  an  ellipsis. 

564.  A  disjunctive  syllogism  may  have  many  members 
or  parts ; 

Thus,  it  is  either  spring-,  summer,  autumn,  or  winter; 

But  it  is  not  spring-,  autumn,  nor  summer ; 

Therefore,  it  is  winter. 

Obs.  The  true  method  of  arguing  here,  is/row  the  assertion  of  one, 
:Q  the  denial  of  the  rest,  OY  from  the  denial  of  one  or  more,  to  the  asser- 
tion of -what  remains  ;  but  the  major  should  be  so  framed,  that  the 
several  parts  of  it  cannot  be  true  together,  though  one  of  them  is 
evidently  true. 

565.  (III.)  A  relative  syllogism  requires  the  major  pro 
position  to  be  relative ;  as, 


2t>4  &  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

Where  the  general  is,  there  shall  his  soldiers  be  ; 
Bat  the  general  is  in  winter  quarters ; 
Therefore,  his  soldiers  shall  be  there  also. 
Or,  As  is  the  captain,  so  are  his  soldiers  ; 
But  the  captain  is  a  coward ; 
Therefore,  his  soldiers  are  so  too. 

Obs.  1.  Arguments  that  relate  to  the  doctrine  of  proportion,  must 
be  referred  to  this  head ;  as, 

As  two  are  to  four,  so  are  three  to  six ;  but  two  make  the  half  of 
four ;  therefore  three  make  the  half  of  six. 

2.  Besides  these,  there  is  another  sort  of  syllogism  which  is  very 
natural  and  common,  and  yet  authors  take  very  little  notice  of  it, 
call  it  by  an  improper  name,  and  describe  it  very  defectively ;  and 
that  is, 

566.  (IV.)  A  connexive  syllogism.  This  some  have 
called  copulative,  but  it  by  no  means  requires  the  major  t® 
be  either  a  copulative  nor  a  compound  proposition  according 
to  the  definition  given  of  it,  (J%rt.  560  and  568.)  but  it  re- 
quires that  two  or  more  ideas  be  so  connected,  either  in  the 
complex  subject  or  predicate  of  the  major,  that  if  one  of  them 
be  affirmed  or  denied  in  the  minor,  common  sense  will  na- 
turally show  us  what  will  be  the  consequence. 

Example  1.  Meekness  and  humility  always  go  together  ; 

Moses  was  a  man  of  meekness  ; 

Therefore,  Moses  was  also  humble. 
Or  we  may  form  this  minor, 

Pharaoh  was  no  humble  man  ;  therefore  he  was  not  meek. 

2.  No  man  can  serve  God  and  Mammon  ; 
The  covetous  man  serves  Mammon  ; 
Therefore,  he  cannot  serve  God. 

Or  the  minor  may  run  thus, 
The  true  Christian  serves  God, 
Therefore,  he  cannot  serve  Mammon. 

3.  Genius  must  join  with  study  to  make  a  great  man  ; 
Florino  has  genius,  but  he  cannot  study  ; 
Therefore,  Florino  will  never  be  a  great  man. 

Or  thus,  Quintus  studies  hard,  but  has  no  genius  ; 
Therefore,  Quintus  will  never  be  a  great  man. 

4.  Gulo  cannot  make  a  dinner  without  flesh  and  fish  ; 
There  was  no  fish  to  be  gotten  to  day  ; 
Therefore,  Gulo  this  day  cannot  make  a  dinner. 

5.  London  and  Paris  are  in  different  latitudes ; 
The  latitude  of  London  is  51  £  degrees  ; 
Therefore,  this  cannot  be  the  latitude  of  Paris. 

6.  Joseph  and  Benjamin  had  one  mother ; 
Rachael  was  the  mother  of  Joseph  ; 
Therefore,  she  was  Benjamin's  mother  too. 


•JHAP.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syttogism.  265 

/.The  father  and  the  son  are  of  equal  stature  ; 

The  father  is  six  feet  high  ; 

Therefore,  the  son  is  six  feet  high  also. 
8.  Pride  is  inconsistent  with  innocence  ; 

Angels  have  innocence ; 

Therefore,  they  have  no  pride  j 

Or  thus,  devils  have  pride ; 

Therefore,  they  have  not  innocence. 

567.  We  might  multiply  other  instances  of  these  eonnefr- 
ive  syllogisms,  by  bringing  in  all  sorts  of  exceptive,  ezcusive, 
comparative,  and  modal  propositions  into  the  composition  of 
them ;  for  all  these  may  be  wrought  into  conjunctive,  as 
well  as  into  simple  syllogisms,  and  we  may  thereby  render 
them  complex. 

Obs.  1.  Most  of  these  may  be  transformed  into  categorical  syllo- 
gisms, by  the  student  who  has  a  mind  to  prove  their  truth  that  way  ; 
or  they  may  be  easily  converted  into  each  other  by  changing  the 
forms  of  speech. 

2.  These  conjunctive  syllogisms  are  seldom  deficient  or  faulty  in 
their  form  ;  for  such  a  deficiency  would  generally  be  discovered  at 
tirst  glance,  by  common  reason,  without  any  artificial  rules  of  logic  ; 
the  chief  care,  therefore,  is  to  sec  that  the  major  proposition  be 
true,  upon  which  die  whole  force  of  the  argument  usually  depends. 

VI.  Of  Compound,  Imperfect,  or  Irregular  Syllogisms. 

568.  COMPOUND  SYLLOGISMS  are  made  up  of  two  or  more 
single  syllogisms,  and  may  be  resolved  into  them.     IMPER- 
FECT, or  IRREGULAR  SYLLOGISMS  cannot  be  reduced  to  the 
rules  of  mode  and  figure. 

Example.  Should  we  argue  thus, 

Every  man  is  mortal  ; 

Therefore,  every  king  is  mortal. 

The  syllogism  appears  to  be  imperfect,  as  it  consists  but  of  two  pro- 
positions. Yet  is  it  complete,  only  the  minor, 

Every  king  is  a  man  ; 

is  omitted,  and  left  to  be  supplied  by  the  reader,  as  being  a  pro- 
position so  familiar  and  evident,  that  it  cannot  escape  his  observa- 
tion and  judgment  of  the  conclusion. 

569.  ENTHYMEME,  the  first  seemingly  imperfect  syllogism 
we  shall  handle,  occurs  frequently  in  reasoning,  especially 
where  it  makes  a  part  of  common  conversation.     (Example 
Act.  294.; 

Hlus.  The    example  just  given  is  an   enthymeme  ;  and  in  the   fol 
lowing  example  one  of  the  propositions  which  constitute  the  pre- 
mises is  omitted,  and  the  conclusion  is  drawn  from  the   other  pre- 
mise, as  if  the  syllogism  were  regular  and  complete. 

Example.  Whatever  thinks  is  a  spiritual  substance  ; 

Therefore,   the   mind  of  man  is  a  spiritual  substance  : — o^ 
*hus  • — The  mind  thinks  ,• 


£66  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv 

Therefore,  the  mind  is  a  spiritual  substance. 
In  the  former  case,  we  omit  the  minor  proposition, 

The  mind  of  man  thinks, 

and  infer  the  conclusion  from  the  major.  In  the  latter  case,  we 
omit  the  major  proposition, 

Whatever*  thinks  is  a  spiritual  substance, 

and  infer  the  same  conclusion  from  the  minor.  It  is  supposed  in 
both  cases,  that  the  connexion  of  the  conclusion  with  either  pre- 
mise, is  so  apparent,  as  to  render  unnecessary  the  presence  of  the 
other  premise. 

The  premise  in  this  case  is  called  the  ANTECEDENT  ;  and  the  con- 
elusion  t\\f  SEQTTELA,  or  the  INFERENCE. 

Scholium.  In  enthymemes  there  is  a  particular  elegance,  espe- 
cially in  common  conversation,  because  not  displaying*  the  argu- 
ment in  nil  its  parts,  they  leave  to  the  exercise  and  invention  of  the 
mind,  that  scope  which  it  delights  to  take.  Besides,  by  this  means 
it  is' put  upon  that  exercise  that  makes  it  a  partaker  in  the  discovery 
of  what  is  proposed  to  it.  And,  in  fine  writing1,  this  is  the  great 
secret,  so  to  frame  and  put  together  our  thoughts  as  to  give  full 
play  to  the  reader's  imagination,  and  draw  him  insensibly  into 
our  views  and  course  of  reasoning.  This,  says  Duncan,  gives 
a  pleasure  not  unlike  to  that  which  the  author  feels  himself  in  com- 
posing. It,  besides  shortens  discourse,  and  adds  a  certain  force 
and  liveliness  to  our  arguments,  when  the  words  in  which  they  are 
convey* -d  favour  the  natural  quickness  of  the  miq^l  in  its  operations, 
and  a  single  expression  is  left  to  exhibit  the  whole  train  of  thoughts. 

570.  But  the- -e  is  another  species  of  reasoning  with  two 
propositions  which  seems  to  be  complete  in  itself,  and 
where  weadmi*  the  conclusion  without  supposing  any  tacit 
or  suppressed  judgment  in  the  mind,  from  which  it  follows 
syllogisticallj.  VVe  should  term  this  the  ground  of  reason- 
ing inimm*  ''i(ifc  consequences. 

Jllus.  1.  This  so  appears,  when  between  propositions  where  the 
connexion  is  si'ch,  that  the  admission  of  the  one,  necessarily,  and 
at  the  first  sight,  implies  the  admission  of  the  other.  For,  if  it  so 
falls  out  that  the  proposition  on  which  the  other  depends  is  self- 
evident,  we  content  ourselves  with  barely  affirming  it,  and  infer  that 
other  by  a  direct  conclusion. 

2.  Thus,  by  admitting  an  universal  proposition,  we  are  forced  to 
admit  of  all  the  particular  propositions  comprehended  under  it,  this 
being  the  very  condition  that  constitutes  a  proposition  universal. 
(Art.  469.  Illus.  1.)  If  then  that  universal  proposition  chances  to 
be  self-evident,  the  particular  ones  follow  of  course,  without  any 
further  train  of  reasoning. 

Example  1.  Whoever  allows,  for  instance,  that  things  equal  to  one 
and  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another,  must  at  the  same  time 
allow,  that  two  triangles,  each  equal  to  a  square  -whose  side  is  three 
inches,  are  also  equal  bet-ween  themselves.  This  argument  therefore — 
Things  equal  to  one  and  the  same*thing  are  equal  to  one  another  / 
•  -  ^herefore,  these  two  triangles.,  each  equal  to  the  square  of  a  line  of  three 
f  inches,  are  equal  between  themselves— 


CHAP.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism*  267 

is  complete  in  its  kind,  and  contains  all  that  is  necessary  towards  a 
just  and  legitimate  conclusion  ;  for  the  first  or  universal  proposi- 
tion is  self-evident,  and  therefore  requires  no  farther  proof :  and  as 
the  truth  of  the  particular  is  inseparably  connected  with  that  of  the 
universal,  it  follows  from  it  by  an  obvious  and  unavoidable  conse- 
quence. 

571.  Now,  in  all  cases  of  this  kind,  where  propositions 
are  deduced  one  from  another,  on  account  of  a  known  and 
evident  connection,  we  are  said  to  reason  by  immediate  con- 
sequence.     Such  a  coherence  of  propositions,  manifest  at 
first  sight,  and  forcing  itself  upon  the  mind,  frequently  oc- 
curs in  reasoning.      Logicians  have  explained  the  several 
suppositions  upon  which  it  takes  place,  and  allow  of  all  im- 
mediate  consequences  that  follow  in  conformity  to  them. 

Obs.  These  arguments,  (Art.  570  and  571.)  though  seemingly 
complete,  because  the  conclusion  follows  necessarily  from  the  single 
proposition  that  goes  before,  may  yet  be  considered  as  real  entln>- 
memes,  whose  major,  which  is  a  conditional  proposition,  is  wanting. 

.imftle  1.  The  syllogism  just  mentioned,  when  represented 
cording  to  this  view,  will  run  thus  ; 

Things  equal  to  one  and  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another  ; 
These  tivo    triangles t  each  equal  to  a  square  ivhose  side  is  three  inrJie-,. 

are  also  equal  between  themselves. 

J>ut  things  equal  to  one  and  the  same  thing,  are  equal  to  one  another  , 
Therefore,  also  tfiese  triangles,  &c.  are  equal  between  themselves. 

Ilhis.  1.  The  fore  going  observation  and  txiimplewill  be  found  to 
hold  in  all  immediate  •  ver,  insomuch  that  they 

are  in  fact  no  more  than  enthymemrs  of  hypothetical  syllogisms.  But 
then  it  is  particular  to  them,  tl-..  ind  on  which  the  conclu- 

sion rests,  namely,  its  c.>!i  '//•,  is  of  itself  appar- 

ent, and  seen  immediately  to  flow  from  the  rules  of  logic.  As  it  is, 
therefore,  entirely  unnecessary  to  express  as-,  tf-evident  connection, 
the  major,  whose  office  that  is,  is  constantly  on.itted  ;  nay,  and  seems 
so  very  little  needful  to  enforce  the  conclusion,  as  to  be  accounted 
commonly  no  part  of  the  argument. 

2.  It  must  indeed  be  owned,  that  the  foregoing  immediate  conse- 
quence might  have  been  reduced  to  a  simple  as  well  as  an  hypotheti- 
cal syllogism.  This  will  be  evident  to  any  one  who  gives  himself  the 
trouble  to  make  the  experiment.  But  it  is  not  my  design  to  enter 
farther  into  these  niceties — what  has  been  said  shews, — That  all  ar- 
guments consisting  of  but  two  propositions  are  real  enthymcmcs,  and 
reducible  to  complete  syllogisms  of  some  one  form  or  other. 

CoroL  As  therefore  the  ground  on  which  the  conclusion  rests, 
must  needs  be  always  the  same  with  that  of  the  syllogisms  to  which 
it  belongs,  we  have  here  an  universal  criterion  whereby  at  all  times 
to  ascertain  the  justness  and  validity  of  our  reasonings  in  this  way. 

572.  A  sorites  of  plain  simple  syllogisms,  is  a  way  of  ar- 
guing, in  which  a  great  number  of  propositions  arc  so  linked 


£68  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

together,  that  the  predicate  of  one  becomes  continually  the 
subject  of  the  next  following,  until  at  last  a  conclusion  is 
formed,  by  bringing  together  the  subject  of  the  first  proposi- 
tion and  the  predicate  of  the  last. 

Example.  Of  this  kind  is  the  following1  argument  : 

God  is  omnipotent. 

Jin  omnipotent  being  can  do  every  thing  possible. 

He  that  can  do  every  thing  possible,  can  do  "whatever  involves  not  n, 
contradiction . 

.  Therefore,  God  can  do  -whatever  involves  not  a  contradiction. 

Ittus.  1.  This  particular  combination  of  propositions  may  be  con- 
tinued to  any  length  we  please,  without  in  the  least  weakening  the 
ground  upon  which  the  conclusion  rests.  The  reason  is,  because  the 
sorites  itself  may  be  resolved  into  as  many  simple  syllogisms  as  there 
are  middle  terms  in  it ;  where  this  is  found  universally  to  hold,  that 
when  such  a  resolution  is  made,  and  the  syllogisms  are  placed  in 
train,  the  conclusion  of  the  last  in  the  series  is  also  the  conclusion  of 
the  sorites. 

2.  This  kind  of  argument  therefore,  as  it  serves  to  unite  several 
syllogisms  into  one,  must  stand  upon  the  same  foundation  with  the 
syllogisms  of  which  it  consists,  and  is  indeed,  properly  speaking,  no 
other  than  a  compendious  way  of  reasoning  syllogistically.  Any  one 
may  be  satisfied  of  this  at  pleasure,  if  he  but  takes  the  trouble  of  re- 
solving the  foregoing  sorites  into  two  distinct  syllogisms  ;  for  he 
will  there  find,  that  he  arrives  at  the  same  conclusion  ;  and  that  too 
by  the  very  same  train  of  thinking,  but  with  abundantly  more 
words,  and  the  addition  of  two  superfluous  propositions. 

573.  A  sorites  of  hypothetical  syllogisms.  What  is  here 
said  of  plain  simple  propositions,  may  be  well  applied  to 
those  that  are  conditional ;  that  is,  any  number  of  them  may 
be  so  joined  together  in  a  series,  that  the  consequent  of  one 
shall  become  continually  the  antecedent  of  the  next  follow- 
ing ;  in  which  case,  by  establishing  the  antecedent  of  the 
first  proposition,  we  establish  the  consequent  of  the  last,  or 
by  removing  the  last  consequent,  remove  also  the  first  ante- 
cedent. 

Example  1.  This  way  of  reasoning  is  exemplified  in  the  follow- 
ing argument : 

Ifive  love  any  person,  all  emotions  of  hatred  totvards  him  cease. 

If  all  emotions  of  hatred  towards  a  person  cease,  toe  cannot  rejoice  in 
his  misfortunes. 

Ifive  rejoice  not  in  Ms  misfortunes,  ive  cei^tainly  ivish  him  no  injury. 

Therefore,  if  ive  love  a  per  son,  ive  ivish  him  no  injury. 

Illus.  It  is  evident  that  these  sorites,  as  well  as  the  last,  may  be 
resolved  into  a  series  of  distinct  syllogisms,  with  this  difference  only, 
that  here  the  syllogisms  are  all  conditional.  But  as  the  conclusion 
of  the  last  syllogism  in  the  series  is  the  same  with  the  conclusion  of 
the  sorites,  it  is. plain,  that  this  also  is  a  compendious  way  of  reason- 


CHAP.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syuogism.  269 

ing,  whose  evidence  arises  from  the  evidence  of  the  several  single 
syllogisms  into  which  it  may  be  resolved. 

Example  2.  The  mind  is  a  thinking  substance.  A  thinking  sub- 
stance is  a  spirit.  A  spirit  has  no  extension.  What  has  no  exten- 
sion has  no  parts.  What  has  no  parts  is  indissoluble.  What  is  in- 
dissoluble is  immortal.  Therefore,  the  mind  is  immortal.  (Corol. 
1,2,  and3.drt.99.) 

This  species,  like  the  former,  is  only  a  train  of  syllogisms  a- 
bridged,  into  which  it  may  easily  be  resolved  in  the  following1  man- 
ner. 

All  thinking  substances  are  spirits ; 

The  mind  is  a  thinking  substance  ; 

Therefore,  the  mind  is  a  spirit. 

Spirits  have  no  extension  ; 

The  mind  is  a  spirit  ; 

Therefore,  the  mind  has  no  extension. 

Things  having  no  extension  have  no  parts  ; 

The  mind  lias  no  extension  ; 

Therefore,  the  mind  has  no  parts. 

Things  having  no  parts  are  indissoluble  ; 

The  mind  has  no  parts  ; 

Therefore,  the  mind  is  indissoluble. 

Things  indissoluble  arc  immortal  ; 

The  mind  is  indissoluble  ; 

Therefore,  the  mind  is  immortal. 

Analysis.  Here  also  it  appears,  that  all  the  intermediate  proposi- 
tions between  the  first  and  the  last  of  a  sorites  may  be  formed  into 
separate  syllogisms  ;  and  that  it  is  equivalent  to  an  argument  formed 
of  as  many  syllogisms,  as  the  argument  contains  intermediate  propo- 
sitions. It  may  also  be  observed,  that  every  idea  of  the  sorites  is 
twice  repeated,  and  that  it  might  be  farther  abridged  without  any 
detriment  to  the  evidence  it  communicates.  Had  it  stood  as  fol- 
lows, the  agreement  of  its  ideas  would  have  been  as  clear,  and  its*, 
evidence  as  satisfactory,  as  in  any  other  form.  Mind — thinking 
substance — spirit — without  extension — without  parts — indissoluble 
— immortal, 

574.  Ground  of  reasoning  by  Induction.  We  come  now 
to  that  kind  of  argument  which  Logicians  call  induction;  in 
order  to  the  right  understanding  of  which,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  observe,  that  our  general  ideas  are  for  the  most  part 
capable  of  various  subdivisions. 

Illus.  Thus,  the  idea  of  the  lowest  species  may  be  subdivided  into 
its  several  individuals  ;  the  idea  of  aify  genus  into  the  different 
species  it  comprehends  ;  and  so  of  the  rest.  If  then  we  suppose 
this  distribution  to  be  duly  made,  and  so  as  to  take  in  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  the  idea  to  which  it  belongs,  then  it  is  plain  that  all  the  sub- 
divisions or  parts  of  any  idea  taken  together  constitute  that  whole 
idea.  Thus  the  several  individuals  of  any  species  taken  together 
constitute  the  whole  species,  and  all  the  various -species  compre* 

24 


270  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv. 

hended  under  any  genus  make  up  the  whole  genus.  This  bein^ 
allowed,  it  is  apparent,  that  whatsoever  may  be  affirmed  of  all  the 
several  subdivisions  and  classes  of  any  idea  ought  to  be  affirmed  of 
the  whole  general  idea  to  which  these  subdivisions  belong.  What 
may  be  affirmed  of  all  the  individuals  of  any  species ;  may  be  affirm- 
ed of  the  whole  species  ;  and  what  may  be  affirmed  of  all  the  spe- 
cies of  any  genus,  may  also  be  affirmed  of  the  whole  genus  ;  be- 
cause all  the  individuals  taken  together  are  the  same  with  the 
species ;  and  all  the  species  taken  together  the  same  with  the  genus, 

5  75.  The  form  and  structure  of  an  argument  by  induction. 
This  way  of  arguing,  where  we  infer  universally  concerning 
any  idea,  what  we  had  before  affirmed  or  denied  separately 
of  all  its  several  subdivisions  and  parts,  is  called  reasoning 
by  induction. 

Example.  Thus,  if  we  suppose  the  whole  tribe  of  animals  subdi- 
vided into  men,  beasts,  birds,  insects,  and  fishes,  and  then  reason 
concerning  them  after  this  manner  : 

All  men  have  a  power  of  beginning  motion  ; 
All  beasts,  birds,  and  insects  have  a  power  of  beginning  mo- 
tion ; 

All  fishes  have  a  power  of  beginning  motion  ; 
Therefore,  all  animals  have  a  power  of  beginning  motion. 
The  argument  is  an  induction.     When  the  subdivisions   are  just^ 
so  as  to  take  in  the  whole  general  idea,  and  the  enumeration  is  per- 
fect, that  is,  extends  to  all  and  to  every  one  of  the  inferior  classes 
or  parts,  there  the  induction  is  complete,  and  the  manner  of  reason- 
ing by  induction  is  apparently  conclusive. 

576.  The  ground  of  argumentation  in  a  dilemma.  A  di- 
lemma is  an  argument  by  which  we  endeavour  to  prove  the 
absurdity  or  falsehood  of  some  assertion. 

Ilhis.  In  order  to  this  we  assume  a  conditional  proposition,  the 
antecedent  of  which  is  the  assertion  to  be  disproved,  and  the  con- 
sequent a  disjunctive  proposition,  enumerating  all  the  possible  sup- 
positions upon  which  that  assertion  can  take  place.  If  then  it  ap- 
pears that  all  these  several  suppositions  ought  to  be  rejected,  it  is 
plain  that  the  antecedent  or  assertion  itself  must  be  so  too.  When 
therefore  such  a  proposition  as  that  before-mentioned  is  made  the 
major  of  any  syllogism,  if  the  minor  rejects  all  the  suppositions  con- 
tained in  the  consequent,  it  follows  necessarily  that  the  con- 
clusion ought  to  reject  the  antecedent,  which,  as  we  have  said,  is 
the  very  assertion  to  be  disproved.  This  particular  way  of  arguing 
is  that  which  logicians  call  a  dilemma  /  and  from  the  account  here 
given  of  it,  it  appears  that  w^  may  in  general  define  it  to  be  an  hy- 
pothetical  syllogism -tvher&the  consequent  of  the  major  is  a  disjunctiTe. 
proposition,  ivJdch  is  wholly  taken  aivay  or  removed  in  the  minor. 

Example.  Of  this  kind  is  the  following  : 

If  God  did  not  create  the  world  perfect  in  its  kind,  it  must  either 
proceed  from  want  of  inclination,  or  from  want  of  powers 


CHAP.  iv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism. 

But  it  could  not  proceed  either  from  want  of  inclination  or 
from  wiint  of  power.  . 

Therefore,  God  created  the  world  perfect  in  its  kind,  Or,  winch 
is  the  same  thing,  it  is  absurd  to  say  that,  he  did  not  create 
the  world  perfect  in  its  kind. 

577.  An  universal  description  of  a  dilemma.     The  nature 
then  of  a  dilemma  is  universally  this.     The  major  is  a  con- 
ditional proposition,  whose  consequent  contains  all  the  sev- 
eral propositions  upon  which  the  antecedent  can  take  place. 
As  therefore  these  suppositions  are  wholly  removed  into 
the  minor,  it  is  evident  that  the  antecedent  must  be  so  too; 
insomuch  that  we  here  always  argue  from  the  removal  ol 
the  consequent  to  the  removal  of  the  antecedent.     That  is, 
a  dilemma  is  an  argument  in  the  modus  tollens  of  hypothet- 
ical syll<  jiciaus  love  to  speak.     Hence,  it  is 
plain,  that  if  the  antecedent  of  the  major  is  an  affirmative 
proposition,  the  conclusion  of  the  dilemma  will  be  negative: 
but  if  it  is  a  negative  proposition,  the  conclusion  will  be  affir- 
mative. 

578.  A  dilermiia^Q(}\\\^faidhj or  ineffectual  three  ways: 
.First,  When  the  members  of  the  division  are  not  well  oppo- 

or  not  fully  enumerated,;  for  then  the  major  is  false. 
Secondly,  When  what  ed  concerning  eadi  part  is 

not  just ;  for  then  the  minor  is  not  true.  Thirdly,  When  it 
may  be  retorted  with  equal  force  upon  him  who  utters  it. 

Example.  There  was  a  famous    ancient   instance  of  this  case, 
•wherein  a  dilem  -ortcd.     Euathhts  promised  Protagorus  a 

reward  when  he  had  taught  him  the  art  of  pleading,  and  it  was  to  be 
paid  the  first  day  that  lie  rained  any  cause  in  the  court.  After  a  con- 
siderable time  Protagoras  gots  to  law  with  Euathlus  for  the  reward, 
and  uses  this  dilemma  : 

Either  the  cause  will  go  on  my  side,  or  on  yours  ; 

If  the  cause  goes  on  my  side,  you  must  pay  me  according  to  the 

sentence  of  the  judge  ; 
If  the  cause  goes  on  your  side,  you  must  pay  me  according  to 

your  bargain  ; 

Therefore,  whether  the  cause  goes  for  me  or  against  me,  you 
must  pay  me  the  reward.  , 

But  Euathlus  retorted  this  dilemma,  thus  ; 

Either  I  shall  gain  the  cause  or  lose  it ; 
If  I  gain  the  cause,  then  nothing  will  be  due  to  you  according 

to  the  sentence  of  the  judge  ; 
But  if  I  lose  the  cause,  nothing  will  be  due  to  you  according  to 

my  bargain  ; 
Therefore,  whether  I  lose    or  gain  the  cause,  I  will  not   pay 

you,  for  nothing  will  be  due  to  you. 

Obs.  1.  A  dilemma  is  usually  described  as  though  it  always  prov- 
ed the  absurdity,   inconvenience,   or  unreasonableness  of  some  o- 


A  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  iv, 

pinion  or  practice  ;  and  this  is  the  most  common  design  of  it  :  but 
it  is  plain,  that  it  may  also  be  used  to  prove  the  truth  or  advantage 
of  any  thing  proposed ;  as,  in  heaven  we  shall  either  have  desires  or 
not;  if  we  have  no  desires,  then  we  have  full  satisfaction ;  if  we 
have  desires,  they  shall  be  satisfied  as  fast  as  they  rise  ;  therefore, 
in  heaven  we  shall  be  completely  satisfied. 

2.  This  sort  of  argument  may  be  composed  of  three  or  more 
members,  and  maybe  called  a  trilemma. 

579.  I  cannot  dismiss  this  subject  without  observing,  that 
as  .there  is  something  very  curious  and  entertaining  in  the 
structure  of  a  dilemma,  so  it  is  a  manner  of  reasoning  that 
occurs  frequently  in  mathematical  demonstrations. 

Illus.  Nothing  is  more  common  with  Euclid,  when  about  to  shew 
xhe  equality  of  two  given  figures,  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  to 
prove  the  absurdity  of  asserting  them  unequal  ;  nothing,  I  say,  is 
more  common  with  him  than  to  assume,  that  if  the  one  is  not  equal  to 
the  other,  it  must  be  either  greater  or  less  :  and  having  destroyed  both 
these  suppositions,  upon  which  alone  the  assertion  can  stand,  he 
thence  very  naturally  infers,  that  the  assertion  itself  is  false.  Now 
this  is  precisely  the  reasoning  of  a  dilemma,  and  in  every  step  coin- 
cides with  the  frame  and  composition  of  that  argument,  as  we  have 
described  it  above. 

VII.  Of  the  Merit  of  Syllogistic  Reasoning. 

580.  That  we  may  do  it  no  injustice  in  the  course  of  the 
discussion,  it  may  be  necessary  to  observe,  that  every  syllo- 
gism must  not  be  considered  as  containing  a  complete  argu- 
ment, or  a  train  of  reasoning,  if  the  argument  requires  more 
than  one  intermediate  idea.     One  syllogism,  on  the  contra- 
ry, contains  only  one  step  of  a  train  of  reasoning ;  and  in  ar- 
ranging a  train  of  reasoning  in  the  syllogistic  form,  as  many 
syllogisms  must  be  made  as  there  are  steps  or  comparisons 
in  that  train.     We  must  also  observe  that  by  proceeding  in 
this  manner,  any  train  of  reasoning,  in  arts,  in  science,  or  in 
business,  may  be  converted  into  syllogisms.  These  remarks 
may  be  illustrated  by  exhibiting  the  first  demonstration  of 
the  first  book  of  Euclid  in  this  form. 

Illus.  The  object  of  the  proposition  is  to  prove  that,  The  triangle 
described  on  the  given  line  AB,  by  means  of  the  two  circles,  the 
semi-diameter  of  each  of  which  is  the  line  AB,  is  equilateral.  From 
the  properties  of  the  circle,  each  of  the  sides  of  the  triangle  is  found 
equal  to  the  base,  and  the  inference  is  drawn  necessarily,  that  all 
the  sides  are  equal.  This  train  of  reasoning,  expressed  by  sylle 
gisms,  will  stand  as  follows  : 


GHAp.lv.          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  £ 7  ^ 

1.  All  the  semi-diameters  of  the  same  circle  are  equal  : 

The  lines  AB,  AC*,  are  semi-diameters  of  the  same  circle  , 
Therefore,  these  lines  are  equal. 

2.  All  the  semi-diameters  of  the  same  circle  are  equal ; 

The  lines  BA,  BC,  are  serni-diameters  of  the  same  circle  ; 
Therefore,  these  lines  are  equal. 

3.  Whatever  thing's  are  equal  to  the  same  thing*,  are  equal  to  one 

another ; 

The  lines  AC  and  BC  arc  equal  to  the  line  AB  ; 
Therefore,  the  lines,  AC,  BC,  are  equal  to  one  another. 

4.  Triangles,  having1  their  sides  equal,  are  called  equilateral ; 
The  triangle  ABC  has  all  its  sides  equal ; 

Therefore,  it  is  equilateral. 

581.  Now,  the  point  to  be  investigated  is,  Whether  the 
syllogistic  method  of  exhibiting  this  demonstration,  or  any 
other  train  of  reasoning,  is  preferable  to  that  adopted  by  Eu- 
clid, or  to  the  method  which  places  the  successive  ideas  in 
the  nearest  juxtaposition,  and  expresses  them  in  the  few- 
est and  plainest  words. 

Illus.  From  the  example  which  we  have  given,  it  will  appear, 
that  the  syllogistic  form  is  not  nearly  so  concise  as  that  of  Euclid  ; 
for  all  the  ideas  of  Euclid's  demonstration  are  expressed  in  one  half 
of  the  words  which  are  requisite  to  constitute  these  four  syllogisms. 
Even  Euclid's  manner  of  expression  is  copious  and  full ;  and  the 
evidence  of  his  demonstration  would  not  perhaps  have  been  impair- 
ed, had  he  communicated  it  as  follows.  The  semi-diameters  AB 
and  AC,  of  the  one  circle,  are  equal ;  the  semi-diameters  of  AB  and 
BC,  of  the  other  circle,  are  equal  also  ;  therefore,  the  triangle  is 
equilateral,  and  described  on  the  given  line. 

582.  But,  besides  being  more  prolix,  the  syllogistic  me- 
thod adds  no  light  to  the  evidence  by  which  the  ideas  of  the 
train  of  reasoning  are  perceived,  which  light  the  ideas  pos- 
sess not  in  their  natural  state  of  juxta-position.     Every  syl- 
logism consists  of  three  terms,  and  the  reasoner  must  have 
discovered  the  middle  term,  and  observed  the  agreement  of 
it,  with  the  extremes,  before  he  can  form  the  terms  into  a 
syllogism.     After  the  syllogism  is  formed,  the  mind  acquires 
no  satisfaction  from  the  contemplation  of  it,  which  the  terms 
did  not  suggest  in  the  state  of  juxta-position. 

Illus.  Suppose  we  were  to  prove,  that  Socrates  was  content  with 
his  condition,  because  he  was  a  wise  man  ;  we  should  have  three 
terms,  of  which  a  syllogism  may  he  formed,  and  which  in  their  na- 
tural order  would  stand  thus  :  Socrates — a  wise  man — content  with 
his  condition.  We  affirm,  that  the  agreement  between  Socrates 

*  See  the  figure  in  Simson's  Euclid, 

24*  , 


£74  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv* 

and  contentment,  is  as  obvious  and  satisfactory  in  the  simple  juxta- 
position of  the  terms,  as  it  is  after  these  terms  are  formed  into  the 
following"  syllogism  : 

All  wise  men  are  content  with  their  condition  ; 

Socrates  was  a  wise  man  ; 

Therefore,  Socrates  was  content  with  his  condition. 

583.  Farther,  as  the  syllogistic  form  communicates  no 
additional  light,  so  neither  does  it  assist  in  discovering  mid- 
die  terms.     The  principal  operations  of  any  investigation, 
are  the  invention  of  intermediate  ideas,  and  the  comparison 
of  them,  with  one  another,  and  with  the  extremes.     The  in- 
vention of  middle  terms,  is  the  chief  operation ;  and  excel- 
lence in  it,  is  the  most  important  qualification  any  inquirer 
can  possess.     It  seems  to  depend  on  natural  sagacity  and 
acuteness,  fortified  and  improved  by  exercise.     From  syl- 
logism, in  particular,  no  aid  can  be  derived.      It  does  not 
even  pretend  to  give  any  aid.     Its  only  object  is  to  assist  in 
the  second  operation,  the  comparison  of  ideas  ;  and  we  have 
seen  that  the  syllogistic  exhibition  is  not  more  perspicuous 
than  the  natural  one. 

584.  But  the  most  singular  phenomenon  of  syllogism  is, 
that  the  conclusion  is  often  a  self-evident  proposition,  some- 
times even  trifling  and  insignificant.     The  discussion  of  this 
point  will  unfold  the  whole  mystery  and  merit  of  the  me- 
thod. 

Plus.  In  converting  a  train  of  ideas  into  the  syllogistic  form,  there 
must  be  made  as  many  syllogisms  as  there  are  steps  or  comparisons 
in  the  train,  and  as  many  as  there  are  ideas  in  the  train,  except  one. 
Each  idea  of  the  train  beginning  with  the  second,  is  the  major  term 
of  its  respective  syllogism;  the  other  two  terms  of  the  same  syllo- 
gism are,  one  a  g'enus,  and  the  other  a  species  of  that  genus.  The 
major  term  is  compared  first  with  the  one,  and  then  with  the  other, 
and  must  be  found  either  to  agree  or  disagree  with  both. 

Example.  Take,  for  example,  the  train  of  reasoning*  formerly 
mentioned.  (Jlrt.  573.)  Human  mind — thinking-  substance  im- 
material— indissoluble — immortal,  and  convert  it  into  syllogisms. 

First.  Whatever  perceives,  judges,  and  reasons,  is  a  thinking  sub- 
stance ; 

The  human  mind  peitceiveSsjudges,  and  reasons  ; 
Therefore,  the  human  mind  is  a  thinking  substance. 
Analysis.  In   this  syllogism,  the    major    term,  "  Thinking  sub- 
stance," and  the  second  idea  of  the  train,  is   compared  with  the 
genus,  "  whatever  perceives,  judges,  and  reasons,"  in  the  first  pre 
mise,  and  is  found  to  -agree  with  it.     The  same  major  term  is  coin- 
pared  again  with  the  species,  "  the  human  mind,"  in  the  conclusion, 
a,ndis  found  also  to  agree  with  it.    Now,  the  genus,  "  whatever  pen? 


iv*          Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  275 

ceives,  judges  and  reasons,"  the  species,  "  the  mind  of  man,"  and 
"thinking  substance,"  are  all  the  terms  of  this  syllogism. 
Secondly.  Whatever  thinks  is  immaterial : 
The  human  mind  thinks  ; 
Therefore,  the  human  mind  is  immaterial. 

Analysis.  "  Immaterial,"  the  third  idea  of  the  train,  and  the  major 
term  of  this  syllogism,  is  compared  first  with  the  genus,  "  whatever 
thinks,"  and  next  with  the  species,  "  the  human  mind,"  and  is 
found  to  agree  with  both. 

Thirdly.  Whatever  is  immaterial  is  indissoluble  ; 
The  mind  of  man  is  immaterial ; 
Therefore,  the  mind  of  man  is  indissoluble. 

Analysis.  "  Indissoluble,"  the  fourth  idea  of  the  train,   and  the 
major  term  of  this   syllogism,  is  compared   first   with  the  genus, 
**  whatever  is  immaterial,"  and  next  with  the  species,  "  the  mind  of 
man,"  and  is  found  to  agree  with  both. 
Fourthly.  Whatever  is  indissoluble  is  immortal  ; 
The  mind  of  man  is  indissoluble  ; 
Therefore,  the  mind  of  man  is  immortal. 

Analysis.  *4  Immortal,"  the  last  idea  of  the  train,  and  the  major 
icrm  of  this  syllogism,  is  compared  first  with  the  genus,  "  whatever 
is  indissoluble,"  and  then  with  the  species,  "  the  mind  of  man,"  and 
is  found  to  agree  with  both. 

585.  From  these  examples  it  appears,  that  the  major 
term  of  every  syllogism  is  one  of  the  ideas  of  the  train,  be- 
ginning with  the  second;  that  the  minor  term  of  every 
syllogism  is  \\\e  first  idea  of  the  train  ;  and  that  the  middle 
term  of  every  syllogism  is  a  genus  of  the  minor.     The  syl- 
logisms which  we  have  formed  are  all  of  the  first  figure  ;  but 
this  circumstance  is  no  objection  against  the  remarks  which 
we  have  to  make,  because  all  the  other  figures  and  modes 
proceed  on  the  same  principle  ;  namely,  the  -comparison  of 
the  major  term,  first,  with  the  genus  of  the  minor,  and,  next, 
with  the  minor  as  a  species :  or  the  syllogisms  of  the  other 
figures  may  be  reduced  to  those  of  the  first  in  which  these 
conditions  take  place. 

586.  What,  then,  is  the  mystery  of  this  mighty  syllogistic 
art,  which  has  so  long  engaged  the  attention  of  learned  men, 
and  is  still  accounted  by  many  of  that  description  to  contain 
something  meritorious,  or  to  be  an  analysis  of  the  art  of  rea- 

ing?  It  is  no  more  than  this,  "  Whatever  agrees  with 
any  genus,  will  agree  with  every  species  of  that  genus  ;  or 
whatever  disagrees  with  any  genus,  will  disagree  with  eve- 
species  of  that  genus."  If  this  be  the  principle  of  the  art, 
can  we  wonder  at  the  self-evidence  of  all  the  conclusions  of 


£76  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  iv, 

all  its  syllogisms,  or  that  it  never  gratified  science  or  busi- 
ness with  the  discovery  of  any  useful  truth. 

587.  When  we  reflect  how  genus  and  species  are  formed, 
it  is  impossible  but  what  agrees  or  disagrees  with  the  one, 
must  agree  or  disagree  with  the  other.     What  is  a  genus  ? 
It  is  a  collection  of  all  the  qualities  common  to  the  species 
it  includes.     What  agrees,  then,  with  the  common  qualities 
of  any  species,  must  agree  with  the  species  itself,  as  far  as 
these  qualities  extend ;  and  syllogism  carries  the  agree- 
ment of  the  major  term,  with  the  minor  and  middle  terms, 
no  farther  than  these  qualities.     What  agrees  with  the  ge- 
nus must  agree  with  the  species  ;  it  is  only  an  agreement 
with  the  same  thing  in  different  situations ;  the  major  term  a 
grees  or  disagrees  with  perfectly  the  same  qualities,  in  the 
genus,  with  which  it  agrees  or  disagrees  in  the  species. 

Corol.  Hence,  it  appears,  that  after  finding-  the  agreement  of  the 
maj or  term  with  the  g-enus  of  the  minor  term,  the  conclusion,  which 
asserts  the  agreement  of  the  major  term  with  the  species,  or  the 
minor  term  itself,  must  be  self-evident.  To  arrange  things  into  spe- 
cies and  genera,  is  extremely  convenient  for  the  purposes  of  lan- 
guage, and  some  of  the  purposes  of  philosophy;  but  to  pretend  to 
reason  from  the  one  to  the  other,  seems  to  be  the  quintessence  of 
vanity  or  folly. 

588.  Examine  any  demonstration  tf  Euclid,  any  investi- 
gation of  morals,  politics,  or  affairs  of  common  life,  and  you 
will  find,  that  no  man  in  earnest  reasons  from  a  genus  to  a 
species. 

Illus.  1.  A  mathematical  demonstration  consists  of  the  comparison 
of  quantities  of  the  same  species;  figures  are  compared  with  fig- 
ures ;  angles  with  angles  ;  and  lines  with  lines. 

2.  An  inquiry  concerning  justice  or  charity,  compares  these  vir- 
tftes  with  the  principles  of  reason,  equity,  the  laws  of  the  commu- 
nity, and  the  situations  of  persons. 

3.  A  process  in  the  arts  refers  to  the  theory  of  the  art,  and  to  the 
example  of  the  most  reputable  and  successful  practitioners. 

589.  It  is  of  little  consequence  to  maintain,  that  the  syl- 
logistic art  sometimes  makes  its  way  into  the  most  serious 
business,  and  that  every  indictment  for  a  crime,  for  instance, 
is  a  syllogism  ;  of  which  the  major  premise  contains  the  des- 
cription of  the  crime,  and  its  punishment  appointed  by  the 
law ;  the  minor  premise,  the  application  of  the  law  to  the 
case  of  the  criminal ;  and  the  conclusion,  an  assertion  that 
the  criminal  merits  the  punishment  appointed  by  the  law. 

Ilk®.  1.  That  an  indictment  stands  in  the  form  of  a  syllogism,  no 


v  HAP.  iv.  Of  Reasoning  and  Syllogism.  "277 

doubt  can  exist.  The  major  term  is  the  punishment  ;  the  crime 
committed  is  the  minor  term  and  the  species ;  the  description  of 
the  crime  in  the  law  is  the  middle  term  and  the  genus. 

Carol.  The  major  term,  or  the  punishment,  agrees  with  the  genus, 
or  the  law  ;  and  it  agrees  also,  perhaps,  with  the  minor  term  and  the 
species,  or  the  crime  of  the  prisoner.  But  there  is  not  here,  strictly 
speaking*,  any  reasoning. 

Illus.  2.  A  trial  is  no  more  than  a  scrutiny,  whether  a  particular 
crime  is  included  under  a  general  latv,  or  whether  the  indictment  ac- 
cords with  truth,  when  it  asserts,  that  the  prisoner,  in  taking  away 
the  property  or  the  life  of  his  fellow-creature,  has  committed  the 
crime  m  theft  or  murder,  of  which  crimes  the  perpetrators  are  declar- 
ed by  the  law  to  deserve  punishment. 

Corol.  There  is  no  more  reasoning  in  this  case,  than  in  every  ap- 
plication ofthe  principles  of  science  to  the  particular  cases  they  in- 
clude. 

Illus.  3.  The  assertion,  that  a  particular  field  consists  of  a  certain 
number  of  acres,  is  equally  a  syllogism  with  an  indictment  charg- 
ing a  culprit  with  the  commission  of  a  crime  punishable  by  law. 

Example.  The  number  of  acres,  suppose  ten,  is  the  major  term; 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  fields,  is  the  minor  term  and  the  species  ; 
he  number  of  acres  of  which  all  fields  of  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  one  under  consideration  consists,  is  the  middle  term  and  the  ge- 
nus. The  major  term,  ten  acres,  agrees  with  the  dimensions  of  all 
fields  ofthe  extent  of  the  one  under  consideration;  it  agrees  also 
with  the  dimensions  of  the  one  under  consideration  ;  and,  therefore, 
it  agrees  both  with  the  genus  and  the  species  ofthe  syllogism. 

Conclusion. 

But  though  the  syllogistic  method  be  nugatory  and  insignificant 
as  an  instrument  of  reasoning,  it  possesses  high  merit  as  an  engine 
of  wrangling  and  controversy.  It  was  the  happiest  contrivance 
that  could  have  been  devised  for  conducting  those  public  disputa- 
tions and  comparative  trials,  which  for  ages  prevailed  in  Europe,  and 
in  which  the  discovery  of  truth  was  no  part  of  the  ambition  of  the 
combatants.  The  most  ready  and  acute  framer  of  syllogisms  was 
sure  to  retire  triumphant.  The  grand  contest  was  not  whether  th« 
syllogism  contained  any  useful  truth.  The  object  of  one  party  was 
to  maintain  its  legitimacy  ;  ofthe  other,  to  controvert  or  deny  one 
of  its  propositions.  Wrangling  thus  became  a  science;  and  the 
mind  of  man,  apparently  enthusiastic  in  the  discovery  of  truth  and 
knowledge,  never  wandered  farther  from  their  paths. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE, 
CHAPTER  I. 

HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  MEMOUV. 

590.  In  Art  464.  lllus.  we  inquired  generally,  what 
knowledge  is;  but  it  is  now  necessary  to  shew  that  all  HU- 
MAN KNOWLEDGE  is  conceived  to  consist  of  sciences  and 
arts,  between  which  it  is  difficult  to  fix  the  distinction  with 
accuracy ;   and  accordingly,  we  sometimes  find  the  same 
branch  of  knowledge  denominated,  promiscuously,  a  science 
and  an  art.     All  the  principles  of  science  have  some  refer- 
ence to  practice,  and  the  theory  of  every  art  may  merit  the 
appellation  of  a  science. 

lllus.  1 .  Some  difference,  however,  there  is  between  them,  which, 
as  far  as  it  is  of  any  importance,  may  be  characterized  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner  :  A  SCIENCE  is  a  system  of  general  truths  relative  to 
some  branch  of  useful  knowledge,  and  supported  by  evidence, 
either  demonstrative  or  highly  probable.  An  ART  is  the  application 
of  the  organs  of  the  body,  or  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  to  the  execu- 
tion of  so  ne  design,  directed  by  the  best  principles  and  rules  of 
practice. 

2.  A  RCTENCE  is  addressed  entirely  to  the  understanding  ;  an  ART 
generally  occupies  both  the  understanding  and  the  members  of  the 
body.  A  science  is  acquired  by  study  alone  ;  an  an  cannot  be  ac- 
quired without  much  practice  of  the  operations  it  contains.  Accu- 
rate knowledge  is  all  tnat  is  necessary  in  science  ;  eminence  in  art 
demands,  besides,  an  acquaintance  with  rules,  and  the  habit  of  dex- 
trous and  ready  performance. 

591.  Human  knowledge  divides  itself  into  three  great 
compartments,  adapted  to  the  memory,  the  understanding. 
and  the  imagination.     To  the  MEMORY  may  be  addressed, 
HISTORY  ;  to  the  UNDERSTANDING,  PHILOSOPHY  ;  and  to  the 

IMAGINATION,  POETRY. 


r.  i.         Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge. 

Obs.  1.  These  words,  history,  philosophy,  poetry,  taken  in  their 
most  extensive  meanings,  may  comprehend  every  branch  of  human 
knowledge. 

Illus.  1.  Under  HISTORY  are  included  all  facts  relative  to  nature 
or  society,  of  which  we  can  obtain  intelligence,  and  which  we  can 
commit  to  record. 

2.  Under   PHILOSOPHY,   is   contained  all  information  relative  to 
sciences  or  arts,  attainable  by  the  exercise  of  the  understanding,  or 
by  experience  and  practice. 

3.  Under  POETRY,  are  implied  all  those  branches  of  knowledge, 
which  in  any  form  contribute  chiefly  to  engage  or  interest  the  ima- 
gination. 

Obs.  2.  These  great  divisions  will  be  perceived  to  run  into  one 
another,  because  different  branches  of  knowledge  are  generally  ad- 
dressed to  more  of  those  faculties  than  one. 

592.  History  is  divided  into  three  parts,  Sacred,  Civil, 
and  Xalural. 

Illus.  S  ACHED  HISTORY  comprehends  the  narrative  parts  of  revela- 
tion, and  the  history  of  the  church,  commonly  culled  Ecclesiastical 
History  ;  embracing  the  history  of  the  Jvu  s,  both  politic:-.!  ;uul  eccle- 

.cal ;  the  history  the  propagation  ;uul  progress  of  Christianit 
far  as  they  were  earned  on  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  immediate  suc- 
rsthe  apostles;  and  the  history  of  the  Christian  churches,  from 
the  <era  of  the  apostles  to  the  present  time. 

593.  CIVIL,  or,  as  some  writers  call  it  profane  history,  in 
opposition  to  sacred,  contains  an  account  of  the  govern- 
ments, and  of  the  civil  and  military  transactions  of  nations; 
anddi-j  !  it  exhibitions  of  human  nature,  which 
the  preservation  of  the  h.ij  i    large  communities  of 
men,  and  the  convulsions  of  societies,  frequently  produce. 

Jllus.  The  most  instructive  lessons  in  morality  and  in  politics, 
those  most  useful  sciences,  which  provide  for  the  felicity  and  comfort 
of  individuals  and  nations,  are  presented  to  our  view  in  civil  history. 
It  recounts  the  noble  deeds  of  the  patriot  and  the  hero,  and  insinu- 
'oy  their  exam.])!.1,  the  mo*i  salutary  instruction,  while  it  holds 
forth  the  cruelty  of  the  oppressor,  or  the  irregularities  and  crimes  of 
bad  men,  as  the  causes  of  their  misery.  All  civilized  nations  have 
exhibited  specimens  of  their  progress  in  this  branch  of  knowledge. 

594.  Another  branch  of  civil,  is  literary  history  ;  or  de 
tails  of  the  origin  arid  progress  of  learning,  with  the  revolu- 
tions it  has  undergone  in  different  ages   and    situations. 
Though  the  incidents  of  this  branch  are  not  so  splendid  as 
those  of  the  former,  they  are  entitled  to  regard. 

Illus.  Civil  history  displays  the  qualities  of  the  statesman  and  the 
warrior.  Literary  history  unfolds  the  productions  of  the  imagina- 
tion, of  the  heart,  and  of  the  understanding',  and  illustrates  the  ef- 
fects of  external  circumstances,  in  calling  forth,  or  repressing  the 
exertions  of  the  man  of  genius,  and  of  the  philosopher.  Next  to 


280  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v- 

provision  For  the  safety  and  happiness  of  individuals  and  communi 
ties,  the  most  meritorious  objects  of  general  attention,  are  those 
pursuits  which  advance  the  character  of  human  nature,  and  promote 
its  civilization,  its  refinement,  and  its  dignity. 

595.  Profane  history  includes  farther,  MEMOIRS,  ANNALS. 
BIOGRAPHY,  and  is  intimately  connected  with  antiquities, 
chronology  and  geography. 

Ilhis.  A  memoir  is  a  familar  narration,  in  which  the  author  attempts 
not  the  profound  discussion,  nor  the  dignity  of  style  employed  by 
the  historian.  The  writer  of  memoirs  presents  a  simple  and  plain 
relation  of  facts,  and  leaves  reflections  and  comments  to  the  reader. 

Obs.  A  work  of  this  sort,  executed  witli  ability,  possesses  many 
attractions,  sufficient  to  gain  admirers.  It  is  generally  more  cir- 
cumstantial, and  more  picturesque  than  regular  history,  and  by  ad- 
mitting the  reader  into  more  intimate  familiarity  with  the  author, 
communicates  instruction  with  the  ease  of  conversation,  without 
assuming  the  austere,  and  less  pleasant  tone  of  teaching. 

596.  ANNALS  are  a  history  constructed  in  the  form  of  a 
journal,  and  bind  it  sometimes  so  closely  in  the  trammels  of 
chronology,  that  the  author  cannot  depart  from  the  order  of 
time,  nor  anticipate  any  part  of  his  narrative,  to  connect  the 
several  incidents  of  an  event.     The  transactions  that  occur 
within  the  year  must  appear  in  their  proper  places ;  and  if 
the  events  extend  over  several  years  before  their  completion, 
their  annual  portions  are  detached  and  related  apart. 

Obs.  The  annalist  seldom  attempts  to  throw  much  interest  into 
his  work,  or  to  convey  any  knowledge  besides  a  distinct  and  accu- 
rate view  of  facts.  He  seldom  endeavours  to  adorn  his  relation,  or 
to  interweave  in  it  moral  or  political  information.  He  undertakes 
the  humble  task  of  delineating  with  accuracy  the  naked  facts,  and 
leaves  the  historian  to  embellish  them.  He  is  properly  the  pioneer 
of  the  historian,  and  contributes  greatly  to  shorten  his  labour,  and 
to  accelerate  his  progress, 

Example.  Both  Thucydides  and  Tacitus  have  given  to  their  high- 
ly finished  histories  the  form,  and  the  latter  even  the  name,  of  an- 
nals. Thucydides  imposed  harder  conditions  upon  himself  than  are 
demanded  by  the  rigid  rules  of  annals.  His  narrative  is  divided 
into  periods  of  half  a  year,  and  he  scruples  not  to  mince  his  trans- " 
actions  into  fragments,  to  make  them  correspond  to  this  minute 
distribution  of  his  time.  The  annals  of  Scotland,  published  by  Sir 
David  Dalrymple,  realize  the  idea  we  have  given  of  this  species  of 
writing. 

597.  BIOGRAPHY  records  the  lives  of  eminent  individu- 
als, and  is  susceptible  of  much  interest,  as  the  personages 
may  be  selected  from  any  order   of  society — They  may  be 
men  of  letters,  of  pleasure,  of  business — They  may  be  kings, 
statesmen,  politicians,  artists  y  warriors. 


"HAP.  ic         Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  28 1 

Obs.  The  relation  of  their  lives  may  comprehend  entertaining 
'.strictures  on  the  character  and  conduct  of  those  with  whom  the\ 
have  been  connected,  and  important  discoveries  into  the  history  of 
the  times  in  which  they  have  lived. 

598.  ANTIQUITIES,  CHRONOLOGY,  and  GEOGRAPHY,  are 
the  handmaids  of  history. 

599.  ANTIQUITIES  contain  discussions  concerning  monu- 
ments, political,  military,  sepulchral,  or  etymological,  that 
transcend  the  limits  of  history,  and  relate  to  events,  cus- 
toms, or  opinions,  about  which  no  other  documents  exist. 
The  early  transactions  of  all  nations  are  involved  in  obscu- 
rity, because  the  composition  and  preservation  of  records 
hardly  appear  but  in  an  advanced  state  of  civilization. 
There  is,  however,  in  mankind,  a  desire  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  important  events,  as  well  as  to  investigate  the 
meaning  of  manners,  practices,  and  opinions,  the  origin  of 
which  is  obscure.     Hence  stones,  and  coins,  and  columns, 
the  most  durable  materials  with  which  men  are  acquainted 
before  the  use  of  writing,  are  naturally  selected  to  gratify 
this  desire. 

Obs.  The  most  important  branch,  however,  of  antiquities,  relates 
to  the  obscuritics'of  history,  manners,  and  laws.  "  Antiquitates,"  say.s 
Lord  Bacon  in  this  sense,  "  historic  deform ata:  sunt,  sivc  reliquiae 
historic,  quje  casu  e  naufragio  temporum  ereptx  sunt."  Without 
some  knowledge  of  antiquities,  neither  old  laws,  nor  many  impor- 
tant usages  in  languages,  in  the  affairs  of  nations,  and  in  public  rites 
and  ceremonies,  can  be  understood.  The  explanation  of  these  is 
grateful  to  numerous  individuals,  and  productive  of  useful  discove 
ries,  relative  to  titles,  to  honours,  and  to  property. 

600.  CHRONOLOGY  assigns  to  events,  the  order  of  time  in 
which  they  happened,  and  therefore  without  it  a  relation  of 
facts  must  be  a  mass  of  confusion,  which  the  memory  can- 
not retain,  nor  the  understanding  apply  to  any  useful  pur- 
pose.    Chronology  forms  into  a  system  the  transactions  of 
nations,  and  distinguishes  the  progress  of  science,  of  man 
ners  and  of  arts.     The  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
are  allowed  to  be  the  best,  and  the  most  universal  measures 
of  time;  but  the  practice  of  observing  these  revolutions 
with  accuracy  is  of  late  acquisition,  and  appears  not  till  con- 
siderable progress  has  been  made  in  mathematics  and  astro- 
nomy. 

Obs.  The  chronology  of  ancient  history,  is,  for  this  reason,  not  a 
little  imperfect,  because  it  is  difficult  to  reduce  to  any  fixed  point 
the  seras  from  which  the  authors  reckon.  Even  the  commencement 
of  the  '  Olympiads,  and  the  building  of  Rome,  are  not  perfectly  de~ 

25 


£82  £  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v 

termined ;    while  the  chronology  of  the  Jews,  and  of  the  early 
Greeks,  is  hardly  supported  by  better  evidence  than  conjecture. 

Illiis.  The  chronology,  then,  of  history,  is  ascertained  for  a  period, 
extending-  backward  two  thousand  six  hundred  years  From  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Olympiads,  (about  eight  hundred  years  before 
the  birth  of  Christ),  to  the  present  time.  The  only  -written  records 
which  exist  previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  Olympiads,  are 
the  books  of  the  Old  Testament;  and  as  the  authors  either  could 
not,  or  did  not  fix  their  chronology,  many  systems  have  been  form- 
ed to  supply  that  defect.  The  most  rational  and  satisfactory  of 
these  systems  is  that  advanced  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton. 

601.  As  the  design  of  Chronology  is  to  determine  the 
time,  the  purpose  of  GEOGRAPHY  is  to  fix  the  place  of  the 
transactions  recorded  in  history.     Geography  exhibits  in 
miniature  the  positions  of  all  the  places  on  the  surface  of 
the  globe,  with   their  bearings  or  relative  situations.      It 
brings  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  some  measure  under  the 
eye  of  the  spectator,  and  communicates  a  more  perfect  idea 
of  its  form,  and  of  its  parts,  than  could  be  conveyed  by  an 
actual  survey. 

Illus.  It  is  commonly  divided  into  two  parts,  general  and  particu- 
lar. The  former  treats  of  the  figure  of  the  earth,  and  the  theory  of 
winds,  tides,  and  currents.  Particular  geography,  delineates  the 
situations  of  kingdoms,  cities,  rivers,  mountains,  coasts,  and  seas. 
When  the  situations  of  these  are  understood,  the  reader  more  easily 
comprehends  the  transactions  of  which  these  form  the  field ;  the 
marches  and  operations  of  armies  ;  the  navigations  and  encounters 
of  fleets  ;  the  effects  of  climate,  and  the  produce  of  soils. 

602.  The  third  branch  of  history  is  termed  NATURAL, 
and  includes  a  large  field  of  knowledge,  both  useful  and  en- 
tertaining; especially  as  it  comprehends  an  account  of  all 
the  phenomena  in  the  heavens,  and  the  productions  on  the 
earth,  which  are,  or  which  may  be  the  objects  of  our  senses, 
together  with  the  changes  that  may  be  made  on  these  pheno- 
mena and  productions  by  physical  causes,  or  the  means  of 
art.     This  part  of  natural  history,  which  Lord  Bacon  calls 
Narrative,  addresses  itself  to  the  memory.     The  use  which 
may  be  made  of  it,  by  induction,  towards  ascertaining  the 
laws  of  nature,  belongs  to  natural  philosophy  and  chemistry. 

Obs.  Natural  History,  then,  in  this  view,  is  divided  into  two 
branches,  one  containing  the  productions  oj  nature,  whether  ordina- 
ry and  regular,  or  extraordinary  and  monstrous ;  and  the  other,  the 
productions  of  art.  The  natural  historian,  recounts  every  fact  and 
circumstance  relative  to  these  productions. 

603.  The  PRODUCTIONS   OF   NATURE    are  divided    into 
those  of  the  heavens,  those  of  the  atmosphere,  and  those  of 
the  earth. 


Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  .}&;* 

604.  The  PRODUCTIONS  OF  THE  HEAVENS  are  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  solar  system,  and  of  the  fixed  stars.     The  phse- 
nomena  of  the  solar  system  are  numerous  and  brilliant-, 
those  of  the  fixed  stars  scarce  contain  more  particulars  thai) 
their  names  and  positions.     The  phreaomcna  of  the  solar 
system  are  copiously  recorded  by  several  popular  writers, 
particularly   by    Keil,   Fergusson,  Vince,  La   Place,   and 
Herschel;  and  from  them  it  appears,  that  much  progress 
has  been  made  by  the  moderns  in  this  curious  branch  of 
knowledge,  beyond  what  was  attained  by  the  ancients. 

Obs.  The  Ptolemic  system,  which  placed  the  earth  in  the  centre, 
\vas  generally  received  by  the  ancients  ;  but  it  was  reserved  for 
Newton,  in  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  to  apply  to  the  true 
system  which  places  the  sun  in  the  centre,  the  most  enlightened 
theory  ever  devised  by  the  mind  of  man  ;  and  to  establish  it  by  evi 
dence,  which  leaves  no  doubt  of  its  truth,  while  it  communicates 
such  ample  information,  as  scarcely  permits  a  desire  to  know  more 
on  the  subject.  (See  my  Edition  of  Mams' s  Elements  of  Useful 
Knowledge,  Book  II.) 

605.  The  PHENOMENA   OF   THE  ATMOSPHERE  relate  to 
the  elasticity,  the  altitude,  and  weight  of  the  air;  to  mete- 
ors, lightning,  thunder,  clouds,  aurora  borealis,  snow,  hail, 
rain ;    to  the  reflection  and  refraction  of  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  the  rainbow,  evaporation,  dews,  winds,  &c.  all  which 
form  curious  and  interesting  subjects  of  investigation  ;  and 
of  the  greater  part  of  which  modern  philosophy  has  collected 
the  history,  and  has  endeavoured  to  ascertain  the  theory. 
(See  Books  IV.  and  V.  of  Adaim's  Elements  of  Useful 
Knowledge,  Fifth  Edition.) 

606.  The  PHENOMENA  OF  THE  EARTH  relates  to  its  fig- 
ure, to  its  division  into  land  and  water,  and  to  the  produc- 
tions which  are  found  above  and  below  its  surface. 

Ilhis.  1.  Its  spherical  figure  first  merits  attention,  which,  though 
contrary  to  appearance,  and  to  the  opinions  of  the  vulgar,  yet  is  so 
completely  established  by  physical  arguments  and  experiments, 
that  no  doctrine  in  philosophy  is  better  supported. 

2.  Its  division  into  land  and  water  next  attracts  curiosity,  and  the 
large  proportion  which  the  surface  of  the  water  bears  to  that  of  the 
land. 

3.  The  most  remarkable  phenomena  of  the  water  are  the  tides 
and  currents,  together  with  the  innumerable  varieties  of  animals 
and  vegetables  to  which  it  affords  life. 

607.  With  regard  to  LAND,  the  first  phenomena  which 
summon  observation,  are  the  figures  of  the  two  great  contin 

s,  extending  far,  from  south  to  north,  and  affording  many 


284  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK,  v 

varieties  of  climates,  of  soils,  and  of  productions  ;  the  direc 
tion  and  magnitude  of  rivers;  the  extent,  the  altitude,  and 
the  figure  of  mountains  ;  the  great  lakes  of  fresh  water,  the 
sands  and  rocks  with  which  they  are  interspersed. 

608.  The  situations  and  figures  of  ISLANDS  next  attract 
our  notice,  with  their  immense  distances  from  one  another, 
and  afford  curious  and  interesting  inquiries  concerning  the 
manner  in  which  they  have  been  replenished  with  the  ani- 
mals and  vegetables  they  contain. 

Obs.  All  these  phenomena  belong1  to  the  geographer  to  recount 
and  to  explain;  those  we  shall  enumerate  fall  within  the  province 
of  the  natural  historian, 

609.  The  Natural  Historian  divides  the  productions  of 
the  earth  into  animals,  vegetables,  and  minerals. 

Jllm.  1.  Under  animals  he  comprehends  all  living  creatures,  from 
man  to  the  meanest  insect;  and  of  every  species  he  attempts  to  de- 
liver the  history,  as  far  as  observation  or  information  can  afford  tyn , 
materials. 

2.  From  animals,  the  natural  historian  proceeds  to  "vegetables.     He 
examines,  and  reduces  into  classes,  all  the  plants  which  the  earth 
produces. 

3.  From  the  surface,  he  descends  into  the  bowels  of  the  cart!*, 
examines  the  nature  and  position  of  the  strata  of  which  it  is  compo- 
sed, and  all  the  varieties  of  minerals  which  it  presents  to  his  ob- 
servation.    But  natural  historians  have  too  often  spent  their  time  in 
idle  disputes  about  classification,  rather  than  in  adding  to  the  gene- 
ral stock  of  knowledge,  and  enlarging  our  acquaintance  with  the 
objects  that  exist. 

Obs.  The  history  of  nature  is,  for  these  reasons,  far  from  being 
complete  ;  and  the  whole  theory  of  general  principles,  which  Lord 
Bacon  calls  the  inductive  part,  and  which  he  declares  was  totally 
wanting  in  his  time,  may  still  be  affirmed  to  have  advanced  but  a 
small  space. 

610.  The  history  of  the  MECHANIC  ARTS,  or  of  those  ex- 
periments and  operations  which  are  performed  on  the  ma- 
terials furnished  by  nature,  forms  the  last  branch  of  know- 
ledge addressed  to  the  memory. 

Obs.  1.  The  phenomena  of  the  fine  arts  will  be  better  introduced 
under  the  branch  addressed  to  the  imagination. 

2.  It  is  vain  in  this  volume  to  attempt  a  specification  of  the  ope- 
rations of  the  mechanic  or  useful  arts.  The  materials  about  which 
they  are  exerted,  are  almost  as  numerous  and  various  as  are  the  dif* 
ferent  substances  and  combinations  of  substances  which  this  earth 
presents.  Should  you  desire  more  accurate  information  you  will 
havie  recourse  to  the  works  that  treat  exclusively  on  those  arts,  or 
to  the  practitioners  who  can  give  you,  in  one  half  hour,  a  better  in- 
sight into  any  particular  art,  than  from  books  you  could  gain  in  the 
half  of  a  vear 


n.       Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE— ADDRESSED  TO  THE  UNDER- 
STANDING. 

611.  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  as  addressed  to  the  UNDER- 
STANDING, is  more  extensive  than  that  addressed  to  the  me- 
mory, as  it  comprehends  all  the  sciences,  and  the  theories  of 
all  the  arts.     If  we  divide  it  according  to  its  objects,  it  will 
resolve  itself  into  two  departments,  the  knowledge  of  MIND, 
and  the  knowledge  of  BODY. 

Obs.  This  division  would  be  very  convenient,  if  mind  and  body 
were  always  found  disunited,  or  were  we  not  frequently  obliged  to 
contemplate  them  conjointly.  But  in  all  inquiries  concerning1  hu- 
rrlan  nature  and  human  acquisitions,  which  constitute  a  large  portion 
of  this  department  of  knowledge,  mind  and  body  are  connected  by 
the  closest  relations,  and  must  be  surveyed  and  examined  in  that 
compounded  state.  We  are  necessitated,  for  this  reason,  to  adopt 
another  division,  more  adapted  to  the  actual  arrangement  of  the 
objects  in  nature  ;  and  to  consider  knowledge  as  referring  to  mind 
unconnected  with  body,  or  to  mind  and  body  connected,  or  to  body 
unconnected  with  mind.  In  other  words,  to  consider  it  as  referring 
to  God  and  spirits,  to  man  and  human  nature,  to  irrational  animals, 
*.o  vegetables,  and  to  inanimate  matter. 

612.  Of  the  world  of  spirits  we  know  nothing,  except 
what  we  learn  from  the  experience  of  the  operations  of  our 
minds,  and  from  the  general  analogy  which  we  are  apt  to  in- 
fer subsists  among  spirits  of  all  orders. 

Obs.  Between  us  and  the  great  Spirit  that  made  the  universe, 
whom  we  cannot  suppose  to  have  any  connection  with  matter,  there 
may  be,  for  any  thing  we  know,  infinite  gradations  of  spirits,  who 
may  be  more  or  less  connected  with  body,  according  to  their  eleva- 
tion in  the  scale  of  being.  But  of  their  natures,  their  endowments, 
their  predilections,  or  their  antipathies,  we  are  altogether  ignorant, 
and  perhaps  incapable  of  receiving  information. 

613.  We  are  no  less  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  FIRST 
SPIRIT,  particularly  of  what  are  called  his  incommunicable 
attributes,  self  existence,  eternity,  omnipotence,  and  infini- 
ty.    Though  we  must  admit  that  these  attributes  constitute 
ingredients  of  the  character  of  a  perfect  being,  yet  what  the 
ingredients  are,  we  can  now  form  no  adequate  conception ; 
and  perhaps  we  never  shall  be  competent  to  the  task.     The 
moral  attributes  of  the  Almighty,  goodness,  mercy,  judg- 
ment, and- veracity,  are  more  adapted  to  human  coipprehen- 

25* 


.£86  Ji  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK  >- 

sion,  and  form  the  ground-work  of  all  the  science  we  de 
duce  from  his  nature. 

Obs.  We  possess,  indeed,  no  adequate  idea  even  of  these  attri 
butes  ;  but  theologians  have  deemed  it  fair  to  presume,  that  these 
attributes  resemble  in  quality,  though  very  different  in  degree,  the 
virtues  which  are  distinguished  by  the  same  names  among  men. 
The  delineation  of  the  doctrines  and  principles  which  result  from 
these  attributes,  forms  the  science  of  natural  religion,  and  part  of 
the  science  of  metaphysics. 

614.  NATURAL  RELIGION  comprehends  the  proofs  for  the 
existence  of  God,  which  result  from  the  order,  the  beauty, 
and  the  design  conspicuous  in  the  works  of  nature.  We 
cannot  controvert  the  reality  of  these  qualities,  nor  suppose 
that  the  works  of  nature  came  into  existence  without  a  cause,, 
JNo  other  solution  can  be  admitted,  than  that  they  origina- 
ted from  some  great,  good,  arid  wise  Being,  who  made  all 
beings,  and  who  governs  all  nature;  who  can  act  from  no 
motive,  and  upon  no  system,  which  embrace  not  general 
happiness;  who  has  aright  to  command  the  obedience  of 
every  creature,  and  in  obeying  whom  only  a  rational  agent 
can  expect  happiness. 

Obs.  The  metaphysical  part  of  knowledge  relative  to  God,  con- 
tfiins  discussions  concerning  the  necessity  of  his  existence,  inde- 
pendence, infinity,  eternity,  omnipotence,  which  are  usually  reckon 
ed  a  branch  of  Pneumatics.  All  these  topics  have  been  often  and 
fully  canvassed,  and  little  now  remains  to  be  advanced  upon  them. 
The  pneumatical  brand),  in  particular,  has  afforded  ample  field  for 
profound  investigation,  in  which  several  writers  of  bold  genius  have 
indulged  themselves  in  speculations,  which  transcend,  perhaps,  the 
compass  of  human  powers,  and  which,  therefore,  should  be  relin- 
quished as  unprofitable.  But.  they  deserve  a  more  severe  censure, 
if  they  contribute,  as  they  sometimes  do,  to  controvert  the  princi- 
ples of  truth,  and  to  defend  the  cause  of  scepticism. 

615.  The  branches  of  knowledge  relative  to  MAN,  respect 
either  ^faculties  of  Ms  mind,  or  the  use  he  makes  of  these 
faculties,  first,  in  acquiring  and  communicating  knowledge, 
and,  secondly,  in  acquiring  happiness.     The  science  which 
explains  $&  faculties  is  a  branch  of  Pneumatics  ;  the  scien- 
ces which  teach  the  modes  of  acquiring  and  communicating 
knowledge,  are  denominated  Logic  and  Rhetoric ;  and  the 
science  which  delineates  the  road  to  happiness,  has  obtained 
the  name  of  Morality. 

616.  PNEUMATICS  form  a  general  history  of  the  faculties 
of  the  mind.     The  exertions  of  these  faculties  constitute  the 
sciences  of  logic,  rhetoric,  and  morality. 

Obs,  PNEUMATICS,  and  tlrese  sciences,  for  this  reason*,  run  irttA 


a.       Philosophy  of  Human  j&iowledge.  287 

one  another;  and  in  general  views  of  human  knowledge,  it  is  unne- 
cessary and  inconvenient  to  contemplate  them  apart.  We  shall, 
therefore,  proceed  to  the  latter  sciences,  the  survey  of  which  will 
afford  a  place  for  exhibiting  every  thing  valuable  in  the  science  of 
pneumatics. 

617.  LOGIC,  or  the  art  which  delineates  the  progress  of 
the  understanding  in  the  investigation  of  truth,  contains,  as- 
we  have  seen,  three  parts,  the  doctrine  of  ideas,  of  proposi- 
tions, of  reasoning  or  proof.     But  on  all  these  we  have  de- 
livered our  opinion  pretty  fully  in  the  preceding  Books,  and 
shall  not,  therefore,  now  enlarge. 

618.  RHETORIC  includes,  at  least  presupposes,  the  arts 
subservient  to  retention  and  recollection ;  but  its  proper  bu- 
siness is  to  unfold  the  art  of  communication. 

Illus.  The  arts  subservient  to  retention  and  recollection,  are  those 
of  writing  and  printing ;  by  which  general  knowledge  is  accumula- 
ted, present  inquirers  are  made  acquainted  with  the  acquisitions  of 
preceding  ages,  and  may  transmit  their  stores  to  posterity.  The 
art  of  communication  is  conversant  about  grammar,  composition,  and 
criticism. 

619.  GRAMMAR  divides  words  into  classes,  and  treats  of 
their  inflections,  their  syntax,  and  their  prosody. 

620.  COMPOSITION    teaches    us    to    communicate    our 
thoughts  with  perspicuity  and  proper  ornament. 

621.  CRITICISM  informs  us  whether  we  have  been  suc- 
cessful.    It  qualifies  us  to  read  with  discernment  and  im- 
provement, and   to   determine   the   literary  merit  of  the 
performances  we  peruse.    (See  my  GRAMMAR  of  RHETORIC, 
Chap.  II.  Book  V.) 

622.  MORALITY,  or  the  science  of  happiness,  may  be  divi- 
ded into  two  great  branches,  one  relative  to  individuals,  and 
the  other  relative  to  communities. 

Illus.  1.  The  branch  respecting  INDIVIDUALS,  comprehends  many 
important  topics  of  investigation;  namely,  that  the  inhabitants  of 
such  a  compound  constitution  as  is  the  human,  consisting  of  reason, 
conscience,  many  passions  and  appetites,  must  result  from  an  ar- 
rangement which  permits  gratification  to  each  of  these  parts,  in 
proportion  to  its  dignity  and  consequence,  and  that  this  arrange- 
ment is  recommended  by  the  principles  of  virtue  ;  that  the  laws  of 
human  conduct  are  manifestly  marked  by  the  nature  of  man;  and 
that  his  constitution  points  out  the  will  of  his  Creator,  with  the  obli- 
gations to  integrity  which  arise  from  this  will ;  that  the  performance 
of  the  duties  which  man  owes  to  his  Maker,  his  neighbour,  and  him- 
self, is  cot  only  dictated  by  obligation,  but  also  by  interest,  because., 
in  proportion  as  he  deviates  from  these  duties,  he  deviates  from 
happiness ;  and  that  the  best  man  is,  and  must  be  the  happiest,  as 
virtue  is  the  truest  wisdom,  the  best  knowledge,  and  the  most  soM 


£&&  *ft  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOKX, 

consolation;  while  vice  is  folly,  ignorance,  and  misery!  (Sec 
Chapter  XII.  Book  II.  Moral  Perception.} 

2.  The  morality  that  regards  the  happiness  of  communities,  con- 
stitutes the  science  of  politics,  which  resolves  itself  into  three 
branches. 

The  first,  containing-  the  laws  of  peace  and  war,  or  the  rules  which 
guide  the  intercourse  of  communities,  founded  on  the  practice  of 
civilized  nations,  and  the  dictates  of  equity. 

The  second,  delineating"  the  different  civil  governments  which 
have  been  contrived,  or  adopted  to  secure  the  safety  of  states,  with 
the  prosperity  and  comfort  of  individuals. 

And  the  third,  exhibiting1  economical  arrangements,  or  the  laws 
which  punish  crimes,  and  encourage  industry,  protect  and  cherish 
commerce  and  arts. 

CoroL  From  the  topics  which  constitute  the  sciences  of  morality 
and  politics,  it  appears,  that  they  are  of  the  greatest  importance 
both  to  individuals  and  communities.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  human 
nature  acquired  any  degree  of  refinement,  and  virtue  and  industry 
were  found  to  be  subservient  to  its  felicity,  these  sciences  could  not 
fail  to  attract  the  attention  both  of  the  man  of  speculation  and  the 
man  of  business.  They  must  have  been  found  to  be  the  best  guides 
of  the  statesman,  and  of  the  private  citizen.  Theories  and  discus- 
sions concerning  them  are  accordingly  discovered  in  early  periods 
of  society;  to  which  have  been  added  such  copious  improvements, 
by  the  enlightened  genius  of  later  times,  that  few  branches  of  know- 
ledge seem  more  completely  investigated.  It  is  pleasant  to  think, 
that  the  mind  of  man  has  been  adequate  to  any  satisfactory  investi- 
gation. In  very  few  sciences  has  it  been  more  successful. 

623.  Human  knowledge,  relative  to  BODY,  animated  or 
inaniinated,  is  divided  into  three  branches. 

Theirs/,  containing  the  metaphysics  of  body,  or  an  ac- 
count of  its  general  properties,  extension,  solidity,  impene- 
frability,  motion,  vacuum,  &c. 

The' second,  regarding  the  surfaces  of  bodies,  or  the  com- 
putation of  the  quantities  of  which  these  surfaces  consist. 

And  the  third,  respecting  the  internal  parts  of  bodies,  or 
their  structure  and  constitution.  Every  inquiry  relative  to 
body  must  be  comprehended  under  some  one  of  these 
branches. 

Illus.  1.  In  discussing  the  metaphysics  or  general  properties  of 
body,  we  discover  that  extension  is  an  essential  quality,  and  that  it 
is  the  chief  quality  which  distinguishes  body  from  spirit. 

2.  We  inquire,  farther,  whether  all  matter  be  solid  and  impenetra- 
ble, that  is,  whether  it  resists  the  entrance  of  extraneous  matter  into 
the  place  it  occupies,  however  impelled  by  any  force  ;  and  we  find, 
that  though  some  matter  is  compressible,  yet  that  all  matter  resists 
the  entrance  of  extraneous  matter  into  the  place  it  occupies,  till  it 
be  permitted  to  retire,  and  that  in  this  sense  it  is  solid  and  impenetra- 
ble. 


.  ii.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  289 

3.  We  discover,  also,  that  motion  is  an  occasional  property   of 

oody,  though  it  seems  incapable  of  assuming  that  property  to  itself.  It 

must  receive  motion  from  some  external  poWer,  but  when  received,  it 

us  motion  till  it  is  deprived  of  that  property  by  some  other,  or  by" 

the  same  external  power. 

1.  We   inquire,  next,   whether  all  space  is  filled  with  matter,  or 
ther  nature  admits  a  vacuum,  that  is,  space  void  of  body.     This 

question  has  been  the  cause  of  long-  and  bitter  controversy,  one 
of  philosophers  maintaining-,  that  nil  space  is  full  of  matter,  and 
that  nature  abhors  a  -vacuum,  which  were  the  sentiments  of  the  Car- 
tesian school ;  while  the  greater  part  of  the  followers  of  AVwfow 
have  embraced  the  doctrine  of  a  vacuum,  and  have  been  of  opinion, 
that  the  phanomemi  of  the  air-jut  nip  alone  are  sufficient  to  establish 
that  doctrine. 

4.  The  scieru  e*  concerned  about  the  surfaces  of  bodies 
are  three,  AKITHM;.I  n.',  GEOMKTKY,  ami  NATURAL  PHILO- 
«Y,   \vhich\verecalled   by  the  ancients  Mathtmota,  or 
H  the  most  il!  !<><!-(•, "  on  account  of  the  impor- 

tance of  the  truth-  -iitain,  and  the  complete  evidence 

which  th«-  -ported. 

fllus.  1.  Arithmetic,  which  in  an  extended  sense  includes  algebra, 
nee  of  computation.     Its  object  i*  quantity  discryt*',  or  di- 
vided int.  '.  :hc  design  of  all  its  operations  is,  to    ascertain 
the  numbers  of  these  parts,  as  far  as  the  knowledge  of  them  may  be 
subservient  to  the  purposes  of  human  hifc. 

2.  All  we  can  wish  to  know  n  nine 
the  amount  of  particular  sums  of  units,  which  is  obtained  by    thr 
operation  called  addition  ;  or  to  ascertain  their  difference,  which  is 
performed  by  the  operation  called  subtraction. 

s  operations,  therefore,  all  the   operations  of  arithme- 

tic and  algebra,  ho\\  e*  n  intricate  and  remote,  are  resolvable. 

Multiplication  and  division   are    nothing  but  abridgements  of 
audition   and  subtraction. 

5.  Many  of  the  operations  of  arithmetic  and  algebra,  depend  upon 
the  doctrine  of  proportion  ;  and  in  all  these  operations,  if  three  of 
the  terms  be  known,  the  fourth  may  be  found,  by  the  rule  of  three 
in  arithmetic,  or  by  an  algebraic  equation.  The  foundation  of  both 
methods  is,  that  the  product  of  the  extremes  is  equal  to  that  of  thr 
means, 

625.  The  investigations  of  ALGEBRA  differ  not  essentially 
from  those  of  arithmetic,  except  in  these  three  particulars. 
Algebraic  Investigations  proceed  by  equations,  in  which  the 
quantity  sought  is  included ;  they  are  expressed  by  letters 
instead  of  figures;  and  they  may  be  applied  to  continuous 
quantity  as  well  as  to  discrete. 

Illua.  In  all  arithmetical  and  algebraical  questions,  something  is 
given,  and  something  sought ;  or  something  is  known,  and  some- 
thing unknown,  Between  these,  some  ratio  may  generally  be  d's 


290  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK,  s « 

covered,  so  that  if  both  the  given  and  the  sought  quantities  be  de- 
noted by  symbols  or  letters,  an  equation  may  be  deduced  from  that 
ratio,  which  will  involve  the  value  of  the  unknown  quantity.  When 
the  equation  is  found,  the  sequel  of  the  operation  is  easy  ;  for  it  is 
always  practicable,  by  means  of  addition  and  subtraction,  to  place 
the  known  quantities  on  one  side  of  the  equation,  and  the  unknown 
quantity  on  the  other,  from  which  position  its  value  will  be  apparent . 

626.  The  SYMBOLS  or  letters  of  an  equation  may  express 
either  numerical  or  mathematical  quantities  ;  they  may  sig- 
nify lines  as  well  as  numbers.  The  addition,  then,  of  two 
letters,  may  denote  the  sum  of  two  numbers,  or  the  length 
of  two  lines  ;  and  the  multiplication  of  two  letters  may  sig- 
nify the  product  of  two  numbers,  or  the  rectangle  contained 
by  two  lines. 

Obs.  It  is  this  capacity  of  denoting  quantities  of  all  sorts,  which 
has  procured  to  algebra  the  name  of  universal  arithmetic,  and  from 
its  capacity  of  operating- with  unknown  quantities,  as  if  they  were 
known,  it  has  obtained  the  name  of  analysis,  and  has  superseded, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  analytic  method  of  the  ancients. 

527.  ALGEBRA  has  been  particularly  useful  in  explaining 
the  operations  of  arithmetic,  the  extraction  of  roots,  and  the 
properties  of  curve  lines.  In  all  which  ca»e*  it  has  commu- 
nicated the  most  important  information,  and  has  facilitated 
exceedingly  the  progress  of  science. 

Obs.  But  the  application  of  it  to  numerical  questions,  which  was 
the  chief  use  of.it  previous  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  centu- 
ry, wivs  rather  a  matter  of  amusement  than  of  utility.  Des  Cartes 
first  employed  it  in  geometrical  questions,  since  which  time  it  has 
been  the  favourite  mode  of  .investigation.  The  ancient  method  of 
analysis  may  excel  it  in  simplicity  and  elegance,  but  in  point  of  ex- 
pedition, and  extensive  use,  in  the  most  difficult  physical  research- 
es, the  resources  of  algebra  are  important,  and  its  superiority  is  de- 
cisive. 

628.  The  ancient  and  elegant  method  of  computing  con- 
tinuous quantity,  or  the  extent  of  the  surfaces  and  the  solidi- 
ty of  bodies,  is  GEOMETRY;  the  science  of  superficies  and  of 
solids.  The  elements  of  this  science  are  divided  into  three 
parts ;  the  first,  treating  of  the.  properties  of  plain  figures  ; 
the  second,  of  those  of  solids  ;  and  the  third,  of  those  of  the 
curve  lines,  called  CONIC  SECTIONS. 

Illus.  1.  Euclid  has  discussed  the  first  in  his  first  six  books;  the 
second,  in  his  eleventh  and  twelfth ;  and  Apollonius,  the  third,  in 
his  elaborate  treatise  on  the  subject.  In  all  these  works,  the  merit 
of  the  ancient  geometers  is  very  great. 

2.  The  Elements  of  Euclid,  it  seems,  are  the  most  perfect  pro- 
ductions in  science,  for  all  the  ingenuity  of  modern  tiniQSj  has  not 


3HAP.  ii.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  291 

added  to  their  merit,  nor  superseded  their  use.  They  appear  to 
have  sprung  nearly  as  complete  and  satisfactory  from  the  hands  of 
their  author,  as  we  still  survey  them. 

3.  The  cones  of  Apollonius  display  profound  knowledge,  and 
great  industry,  hut  they  are  not  so  finished  as  the  Elements.  Tht 
arrangement  of  them  has  been  improved,  several  of  the  demonstra- 
tions have  been  abridged  and  generalised,  and  many  useful  corolla- 
ries have  been  subjoined  by  the  additional  attention  of  modern 
mathematicians. 

Obs.  But  if  we  except  some  progress  made  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
sphere,  and  of  eclipses,  by  Prqclus;  in  the  investigation  of  the  me- 
chanical powers,  hydrostatics,  and  the  art  of  calculating  curvilineal 
spaces,  from  the  method  of  approximation,  by  Archimedes;  we  have 
enumerated  all  the  advancements  achieved  by  the  ancients  in  this 
most  illustrious  of  sciences.  They  had  acquired  little  knowledge 
of  mixed  mathematics,  or  the  application  of  them  to  physical  pur- 
poses, now  called  Natural  Philosophy.  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
true  solar  system,  nor  of  the  laws  that  direct  its  motions,  which  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  has  investigated  with  so  much  success  and  universal 
applause.  They  knew  something  of  the  doctrine  of  reflected  light, 
as  we  learn  from  the  famous  contrivance  of  Archimedes,  for  setting 
fire  to  the  He  man  ships  at  the  siege-of  Syracuse,  by  means  of  burn- 
ing glasses.  But  they  seem  to  have  understood  little  of  the  theory 
of  optics,  and  nothing  of  the  curious  doctrine  of  light  and  colours. 

G29.  The  refined  and  abstract  nature  of  the  higher  parts 
of  mathematics  will  prevent  them  from  being  objects  of  gen- 
eral attention  ;  but  all  philosophers  and  artists  may,  notwith- 
standing, avail  themselves  of  the  practical  principles  thev 
present;  and  every  inquirer  who  can  pretend  to  the  advan*- 
tages  of  a  liberal  education,  should  study  the  elementary 
branches  of  the  Mathematics. 

630.  Independent  of  forming  a  part  of  polite  education, 
and  of  the  advantage  derived  from  the  salutary  exercise  of 
the  reasoning  faculty,  the  study  of  Euclid  demands  attention 
on  account  of  the  necessary  connection  which  Geometry  ha* 
\vith  many  of  the  common  and  useful  arts. 

Illus.  1.  The  principles  of  all  sorts  of  machinery  are  derived  from 
his  Elements,  together  with  the  laws  which  direct  the  most  profita- 
ble application  of  force,  whether  of  animals,  of  water,  or  of  air. 

2.  The  art  of  surveying  is  an  immediate  practice  of  the  most  sim- 
ple deductions  of  this  science,  and  of  course  the  arts  of  delineating 
maps  and  charts,  which  convey,  in  a  manner  satisfactory  and  expe- 
ditious, the  knowledge  of  the  situations  and  bearings  of  places  on 
the  earth  which  wre  have  never  seen. 

3.  The  whole  theory  of  longitude  and  latitude  is  deduced  from  the 
same  source,  without  which  neither  the  construction  of  maps,  charts, 
nor  globes,  could  have  existed.     The  face  of  the  earth  would  have 
remained  unknown,  as  navigation  must  have  been  confined  to  the 
ancient  dangerous  and  circumscribed  method  of  coasting. 


:'£92  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  V 

4.  The  useful  and  ingenious  art  of  ship-building  owes  all,  or  the 
greater  part,  of  its  merits  to  the  principles  of  mathematics. 

5.  Fortification  and  gunnery,  these  dreadful,  but,  it  seems,  neces- 
sary arts,  have  derived  almost  all  their  improvements  from  the  same, 
origin.     In  a  word,  in  whatever  light  we  survey  the  Elements  of' 
Euclid,  whether  as  an  useful  or  an  ornamental  study,  they  merit 
highly  the  attention  of  every  person  who  is  ambitious  of  distin- 
guishing" himself,  either  as  a  philosopher,  or  as  a  man  of  business. 

631.  The  third  division  of  knowledge  respecting  MATTER 
explains  the  branches  that  regard  the  nature,  the  structure, 
and  the  composition  of  bodies. 

632.  This  compartment  is  subdivided  into  three  parts ; 
first,  the  general  laws  or  properties  of  bodies  ;  secondly,  the 
internal  structure  of  animals,  with  their  diseases  and  cures  ; 
and  thirdly,  the  ingredients  or  component  parts  of  bodies. 

The  first,  constitutes  the  science,  or  the  philosophy  of  na- 
tural history  ;  the  second,  medicine  ;  and  the  third,  chemis- 
try. We  formerly  mentioned  natural  history  as  a  record 
of  facts,  we  now  speak  of  it  as  a  branch  of  philosophy. 

O&.s'.  Lord  Bacoiij  anxiously  and  repeatedly  recommends  the 
study  of  natural  history  as  necessary  to  furnish  materials  for  erecting 
the  great  temple  of  natural  knowledge.  The  philosopher  investi- 
gates, compares,  compounds,  and  separates  these  materials,  till  he 
deduces  the  general  laws  of  agreement  and  of  disagreement  among 
the  works  of  God,  and  establishes  the  doctrine  of  an  enlightened 
and  a  satisfactory  science.  Lord  Bacon  himself  led  the  way  in  this 
new  and  noble  path  to  fame  ;  and  though  the  progress  of  that  emi- 
nent inquirer  could  not  be  great,  yet  he  had  the  merit  of  foreseeing 
and  predicting  the  achievements  of  posterity. 

633.  Of  the  three  classes  of  NATURAL  HISTORY — animals, 
vegetables,  and  minerals — that  of  animals  exhibits  the  most 
illustrious  marks  of  wisdom  and  design,  though  the  other 
two  are  not  destitute  of  conspicuous  specimens  of  the  same 
qualities.     (Art.  609.  Illus.  1,  £,  3,  and  Obs.) 

Obs.  1.  Not  to  mention  the  instincts,  or  mental  powers  which 
all  animals  .possess  in  some  degree,  and  which  man  in  great  emi- 
nence possesses  ;  their  external  form,  the  construction  of  their  bo- 
dies, and  the  final  causes,  or  uses  to  which  their  members  are  sub- 
servient, display  marks  of  contrivance  superior  to  those  found  in 
any  other  classes  of  the  works  of  nature. 

Jihis.  1.  ANIMALS  possess  the  power  of  self-motion,  of  sensation* 
of  seeking  and  appropriating  nourishment.  Their  organs  are  more 
complicated,  and  their  changes  more  vapid,  than  those  of  vegeta- 
bles. Some  vegetables  possess  a  degree  of  irritability.  They  con- 
tract on  the  application  of  stimuli.  Few,  however,  are  gifted  with 
this  power,  far  the  greater  number  being  susceptible  of  no  move- 
ment, except  what  results  from  the  elasticity  of  their  roots,  branch- 
••*s,  and  leaves.  They  have  not,  like  animals,  any  feeling  of  pleasure 


OHAP.  ii.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  293 

or  pain  ;  and  they  can  only  imbibe  nourishment  from  those  parts  of 
matter  with  which  they  are  in  permanent  contact. 

2.  But  though  these  differences  are  conspicuous  in   the  greater 
part  of  animals  and  vegetables,  yet  in  the  lower  species  of  the  form- 
er,  and  in  the  higher  species  of  the  latter,  they  in  a  great   measure 
disappear  :  and  it  is  difficult  to  determine  where  the  class   of  ani- 
mals terminates,   and  that   of  vegetables  begins.     The  polypus, 
which  generates  as  many  animals  of  its  kind,  as  are  the  parts  into 
which  it  may  be  divided,   seems  not  to   be   endowed  with  a  much 
higher  degree  of  vitality,  than  that  which  is  possessed  by  many  ve- 
getables. 

3.  Both  in  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdom,  the  smaller  spe- 
cies are  more  numerous  than  the  larger.     Thus,  there  are  many 
more  insects  than  there  are  men  :  the  plants  of  grass  are  more  nu- 
merous than  the  trees;  and  the  number  of  flies  surpasses  that  of 
horses. 

4.  As  animals  descend  to  vegetables,  so  the  latter  approach  mi- 
nerals. Minerals  are  called  inorganized,  or  inanimate  bodies.    They 
seem  to  compose  the  mass  of  the  globe  ;  certainly,  at  least,  its  ex- 
ternal crust.     They  increase  in  volume  ;  but  this  seems  to   arise 
entirely  from  the  juxta-position  of  parts,  and  the  force  of  attraction, 
or  that  assimilating  power  of  nature  which  generates  from  different 
combinations  of  the  same  materials,  parts  of  such  different  constitu- 
tions and  uses.     The  ascent  of  juices  in    vegetables    seems  to  de- 
pend on  the  principles  by  which  water  rises  in  capillary  tubes.  Vege- 
tables grow  with  a  rapidity  palpable    and  conspicuous.     In  a  short 
space  of  time  many  of  them  reach  perfection,  after  which  they  suf- 
fer decay,  and  finally  dissolution.     The  growth  and  decay  of  mine- 
rals is  so  slow  and  imperceptible,  as  to  render  it  sometimes  doubt- 
ful whether  they  are  susceptible   of  these  qualities.     Vege tables 
have  organs  by  which  they  elaborate  the  nourishment  attracted 
from  the  earth  and  the  air.     Minerals  seem  to  undergo  no   change 
but  what  arises  from  the  chemical  action  of  bodies  on  one  another. 

Obs.  2.  Commercial  intercourse,  and  voyages  of  discoveiy,  ad- 
ded to  literary  peregrinations  and  correspondence,  have  left  un- 
known to  modern  naturalists  no  important  region  almost  on  the  face 
of  the  globe,  and  have  communicated  very  satisfactory  accounts  of 
the  greater  part  of  the  countries  it  contains.  The  kingdoms  of  ani- 
mals and  plants  have  been  pretty  fully  investigated,  and  minerals  of 
late  have  been  favoured  with  a  large  share  of  attention. 

634.  The  second  branch  of  knowledge  relative  to  the  struc- 
ture of  bodies,  is  MEDICINE,  whose  chief  object  is  to  explain 
the  nature  of  the  human  constitution,  the  diseases  to  which 
men  are  liable,  and  the  remedies  by  which  they  may  be  cured. 

Obs.  The  human  body  is  one  of  the  most  curious  pieces  of  me- 
chanism which  nature  can  present,  and  furnishes  a  most  importai;t 
subject  of  philosophical  investigation  ;  yet  necessity,  not  curiosity, 
produced  the  science  of  medicine,  and  led  to  its  various  improve- 
ments. A  similar  attachment  to  utility  still  confines  the  researches 
of  the  physician  almost  entirely  to  the  human  body,  but  there  is 
much  useful  knowledge  to  be  obtained  also  from  an  attentive  ex- 

26 


294  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v« 

ammation  of  the  structure  of  other  animals,  whose  organs  and  vital 
funtions  are,  in  many  respects,  analogous  to  those  of  man. 

635.  The  bodies  of  men,  like  those  of  other  animals,  na- 
turally accommodate  themselves  to  their  situation.    If  ex- 
posed to  the  severities  of  climate,  if  accustomed  to  exercise, 
and  inured  to  wholesome,  though  coarse  fare,  they  acquire 
a  firmness  of  texture  and  a  soundness  of  constitution,  which 
either  repel  the  encroachments  of  disease,  or  set  its  attacks 
at  defiance  till  an  advanced  age.     But  when  the  efforts  of 
art  pretend  to  set  at  defiance  the  operations  of  nature ;  when 
men  attempt  to  adapt  the  climate  to  the  constitution,  in- 
stead of  accommodating  the  constitution  to  the  climate,  na- 
ture makes  ample  reprisals,  and  loads  with  maladies  those 
who  seek  indulgences  reprobated  by  health.     The  art  of  me- 
dicine accordingly  has  been  employed  chiefly  to  counteract 
the  inroads  of  luxury,  and  much  ingenuity  and  industry 
have  been  exerted  to  accomplish  this  important  design. 

Obs.  1.  The  human  body  has  been  examined,  and  all  its  vital  mo- 
tions have  hern  studied  with  the  utmost  care.  The  knife  of  the 
anatomist  has  been  sedulously  and  sometimes  successfully  employ- 
ed, in  investigating1  the  structure  and  functions  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  body.  The  effects  of  thousands  of  medicines  have 
been  tried,  and  the  influence  of  air,  exercise,  and  climate,  have  been 
observed.  Much  learning1,  sagacity,  and  experience,  have  been  ex- 
erted with  assiduity  and  perseverance,  to  bring  the  healing  art  to 
perfection. 

2.  But,  notwithstanding  the  combined  industry  of  ancient  and 
modern  physicians,  the  structure  and  uses  of  many  parts  of  the  body 
nre  still  involved  in  such  impenetrable  darkness,  that  the  nature  of 
the  changes  which  take  place  in  disease,  and  the  means  by  which 
these  morbid  changes  are  to  be  removed,  are  in  many  cases  per- 
fectly unknown.  From  these  causes,  the  science  must  naturally  be 
impeifect.  From  them  also  have  probably  originated  those  absurd 
conjectures  and  theories  which  so  long  disgraced  the  healing  art. 
Notwithstanding  these  disadvantages,  the  exertions  of  the  physi- 
cian, properly  directed,  are  capable  of  affording  the  most  essential 
services  to  mankind. 

636.  CHEMISTRY,  the  last  branch  of  knowledge  which  re- 
gards the  structure  of  bodies,  presents  a  large  field  of  in- 
struction and  amusement.     The  object  of  chemistry  is  to 
discover  the  qualities  of  bodies  by  means  of  analysis  and 
composition,  and  to  observe  the  results  that  take  place  from 
these  operations.     With  this  view,  it  investigates  the  effects 
of  air,  light,  heat,  &c.  on  the  bodies  in  nature,  and  all  the 
changes  which  these  undergo,  whether  from  their  spontane- 
ous action  on  each  other,  or  From  the  operations  of  art. 


in.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  295 

lllus.  1.  By  analysis  the  chemist  endeavours  to  discover  the  com- 
ponent parts  of  bodies,  or  to  reduce  them  to  their  elementary  princi- 
ples. Composition,  or  synthesis,  reverses  this  process,  and  forms 
new  compounds  by  the  union  of  bodies  which  were  formerly  dis- 
tinct. The  latter  furnishes  the  greatest  number  of  truths,  and  those 
of  greatest  importance,  as  in  chemistry,  there  are  few,  if  any  opera- 
tions, in  which  some  combinations  do  not  take  place.  Perhaps  it  is 
scarcely  possible  in  any  case  to  determine  what  bodies  are  elemen- 
tary, and  what  are  not  so,  many  being  now  discovered  to  be  com- 
pounded which  were  formerly  considered  as  simple. 

2.  To  discover  elementary  principle*,  however,  is  not  the  most 
important  part  of  the  science.     The  exertions  of  the  chemist  should 
always  be  directed  to  discover  the  laws  on  which  the  operations  of 
h;s  .t,t  depend,  the  order  of  the    different  combinations  of  bodies 
with  r,:ic  another,  and  the  attractions  which  regulate  these  combi- 
nations. 

3.  While  chemistry  confines  its  inquiries  to  these  operations,  it 
deserves  every  commendation,  and  repays,  with  much  emolument, 
the  labours  of  the    philosopher.     But  this,  like  other  branches  of 
•scie.ice,  has  heen    i. synced  by  the  projects  of  empirics,   who  pre- 
tended not  to  .  investigate,  but  to  rival  nature.     Of  late  the  properob- 

•jf  chemistry  have  sometimes  been  mistaken,  and  many  have 
endeavoured  to  extend  its  principles  to  the  explanation  of  phenom- 
ena to  which  they  could  not  apply  ; — hut  chemistry  however,  has 
already  done  much,  and  pronrses  to  do  much  more,  in  elucidating 
and  explaining  many  laws  of  nature,  and  in  simplifying  many  pro- 
cesses in  the  arts. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE,   ADDRESSED  TO  THE 
IMAGINATION. 

637.  THOUGH  the  UNDERSTANDING  is  the  noblest  faculty 
of  the  human  mind,  yet  its  exercise  is  n  '  always  attc  ; 

the  most  pleasure.     Many  of  its  exe         -    r    e       une- 
\y  fatiguing,  sometimes  even  pa* .-. -. \  uled 

chiefly  by  the  importance  of  the  con^ciWur--  they 

involve,  and   the  ascendancy  that,  they 'procure-     TV 
mark,  however,  applies  ehiefly  to  those  exert.-- 
purely  scientific,  and   which  are  occupied  a: 
intricate  trains  of  reasoning.     The  muse  popular 
familiar,  and  certainly  not  the  least  usei 
engaged  about  the  objects  of  the  other  faeull  .1 

knowledge  is  addressed, — the  MEMORY,  and  the  IMAGINA- 
TION. 


296  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  SOOK  v- 

638.  MEMORY  is  the  faculty,  whose  exercise  yields  least 
employment,  its  chief  use  being  to  furnish  materials  for  the 
operations  of  the  understanding.  (Art.  247.)  But  the 
IMAGINATION  partakes  deeply  of  the  pleasure  resulting  from 
the  contemplation  of  all  the  works  of  genius ;  and  is  that  fa- 
culty, whose  exertions  convey  the  most  exquisite  satisfaction 
that  can  be  received,  independent  of  moral  sentiment,  and 
the  affections  of  the  heart.  (Art.  264.) 

Illus.  1.  In  the  most  captivating"  objects  of  the  imagination,  how- 
ever, there  is  always  intermixed  a  larg'e  portion  of  those  qualities 
which  recommend  the  objects  to  the  understanding,  andg-ain  itsap- 
probation.  Without  this  intermixture,  the  objects  of  imagination 
may  excite  a  transient  surprise,  or  momentary  gratification  ;  but 
they  will  never  please  upon  reflection,  nor  will  they  long1  engag'e 
the  attention  of  correct  taste.  (Art.  265.) 

2.  Even  POETRY  must  present  sound  sense,  and  a  legitimate  logic  f. 
and  PAINTING  must  exhibit  design,  propriety,  and  utility,  before  they 
can  obtain  a  more  favourable  appellation  than  the  offspring-  of  a  dis- 
ordered or  distempered  fancy.  (Jlrt.  267  and  268.) 

639-  These  remarks  shew  how  the  objects  of  one  faculty 
solicit  the  attention  of  another,  and  circumscribe  the  objects, 
which  we  are  now  to  represent  as  addressed  immediately  to 
the  imagination. 

640.  The  word  POETRY  (Art.  591.  Illus.  3.)  was  appro- 
priated to  characterize  these  objects :  but  in  this  case  it  must 
be  extended  much  beyond  its  common  acceptation.  It  must 
receive  a  sense  not  restricted  to  metrical  composition,  but 
extended  to  ALL  ELEGANT  PRODUCTIONS  OF  ART,  whether 
communicated  by  language,  by  the  pencil,  or  the  graving 
tool.  It  must  comprehend,  in  a  word,  al!  ORNAMENTED  or 
•  p.  -PA-JIVE  COMPOSITION,  whether  in  prose  or  VERSE  ;  the 
exertions  of  the  STATUARY,  of  the  PAINTER,  and  of  the  ENGRA- 
VER ;  and  the  most  meritorious  exhibitions  of  the  ARCHI- 
TECT, of  the  MUSICIAN  and  of  the  GARDENER. 

Qbs,  As  far  as  the  objects  of  the  Imagination  can  be  expressed 
by  fetnguage,  I  have  anticipated  the  view  of  them  in  my  Grammar 
of  Rhetoric,  in  which  :t  has  been  my  endeavour,  not  only  to  intro- 
duce the  reader  to  an  acquaintance  with  poetic  compositions,  but 
to  render  him  a  judge  of  their  merit,  and  to  guide  his  exertions  in 
similar  attempts.  It  remains,  then,  only  that  we  conclude  this  sur- 
vey by  some  remarks  on  the  other  branches  of  knowledge  which  we 
have  mentioned. 

G41.  GREECE  is  not  the  country  in  which  we  are  to  look 
for  the  greatest  and  most  useful  improvements  in  the  ne- 
cessary arts  of  life ;  far  in  agriculture,  manufactures,  and 
commerce,  it  was  behind  Egypt  and  Phoenicia;  but,  ia  all 


.  in.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  29 T 

that  respects  the  fine  arts — POETRY,  RHETORIC,  SCULPTURE, 
and  ARCHITECTURE,  no  nation  of  antiquity  rivalled  Greece; 
and  the  models  which  yet  remain  of  these,  are  not  only  mo- 
dels of  imitation,  but  standards  of  excellence  to  the  moderns, 
in  the  judgment  of  the  most  civili/.ed  nations  of  our  own 
times.  In  sketching  the  outline  of  the  exertions  of  the  stat- 
uary and  the  architect  we  shall,  therefore,  view  Greece  at 
the  period  when  the  active  spirit  of  the  Athenians,  which, 
after  the  defeat  of  Xerxes,  would  have  languished,  but  for 
(he  new  direction  that  luxury  gave  it,  began  to  display  itself, 
and  the  arts  broke  out  at  once  with  surprising  lustre. 

642.  The  age  of  Pericles,  the  era  of  luxury  and  splendour, 
was  the  golden  age  of  the  :irts  in  Greece.     The  acquisition 
of  fame  was  then  the  capital  inducement  to  exertions  of  ge- 
nius ;  but  as  a  secondary  excitement  we  must  assign  a  large 
portion  to  the  7%eotogy  of  the  Greeks,  which  fnmished  am 
pie  exercises  for  the  genius  of  the  architect  and  the  sculptor. 

Obs.  But  that  which  enabled  the  Grecian  artist  to  excel  in  sculp 
lure  was  the  advantage  he  enjoyed  of  studying"  the  human  figure  nak- 
ed, in  all  its  various  attitude  s'in*  the  Palarstra,  and  in  the  public  games. 
The  antique  statues  have,  thence,  a  superior  grandeur  united  with 
ct  simplicity,  because  the  attitude  is  not  the  result  of  an  artifi- 
cial disposition  of  the  figure,  as  in  the  modern  academies,  but  is  an 
exhibition  of  unconstrained  nature. 

Example.  Thus,  in  the  dying  glailiator,  we  observe  both  the  relax- 
ition  of  the  muscles,  and  the  visible  failure  of  strength  and  life  ;  we 
cannot  thence  doubt,  that  nat'ire  was  the  sculptor's  immediate 
model  of  imitation. 

643.  The  Grecian  &r'chite&we,  universally  allowed  to  be 
the  most  perfect,  consists  of  the  i)oiuc,  the  IONIC,  and  the 
CORINTHIAN  orders;  and  these  three  several  orders  are  res- 
pectively adapted  to  three  different  kinds  of  buildings. 

Illus.  1.  Thus,  the  DORIC,  possessing  masculine  grandeur,  and  a 
superior  degree  of  strength  over  both  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian,  is 
admirably  adapted  to  buildings  of  great  magnitude  and  of  a  sublime 
character  ;  for  with  chasteness  and  simplicity  the  character  of  sub- 
limity is  essentially  connected. 

Example  1.  The  temple  of  THKSEUS,  at  Athens,  constructed  ten 
years  after  the  battle  of  Marathon,  is  of  this  order,  and  at  this  day 
almost  entire. 

Illus.  2.  The  Ionic  order  possesses  lightness  and  elegance.  As 
the  Doric  boasts  masculine  grandeur,  the  Ionic  values  itself  c -i  its 
feminine  elegance  :  it  is  besides  simple ;  for,  simplicity  is  an  essential 
requisite  of  genuine  beauty. 

Example  2.  The  Temple  "of  APOLLO,  at  Miletus,  was  built  after  this 
order  :  as  were  also  that  of  the  Delphian  Oracle,  aixl  of  Diana,  at 
Ephesius. 

26* 


298  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic,  BOOK\. 


3.  The  CORINTHIAN  order,  possessing1  an  exuberance  of 
richness,  marks  an  age  of  luxury  and  magnificence,  when  pomp 
and  splendour,  without  extinguishing-  the  taste  for  the  sublime  and 
beautiful,  had  become  the  ruling  passions.  But  this  union  of  these 
characters  satisfies  not  the  chastened  judgment  ;  nor  does  it  please, 
except  where  the  taste  has  been  corrupted  by  the  ingredients  of 
luxury  and  magnificence. 

644.  The  TUSCAN  and  COMPOSITE  orders  are  both  of  Ital- 
ian origin  :  the  former  nearly  allied  to  the  Grecian  style, 
poseseses  an  inferior  degree  of  elegance  ;  and  the  latter,  as  its 
name  imports,  shews  that  in  the  three  original  orders  the 
Greeks  had  exhausted  all  the  principles  of  grandeur  and  of 
beauty;  and  that  it  was  not  possible  to  form  a  fourth  order 
without  a  combination  of  the  former, 

645.  The  GOTHIC  Architecture  presents  no  contradic- 
tions to  the  foregoing  definitions  and  illustrations.     It  must, 
however,  be  allowed,  that  the  eft'ect  which  it  produces  can- 
not be  entirely  accounted  for  by  the  rules  of  symmetry  or 
harmony  in  the  proportion  between  the  several  parts  ;  but 
depends  chiefly  on  certain  ideas  of  vastness,  gloominess,  and 
solemnity,  which  are  reckoned  powerful  ingredients  in  the 
sublime. 

646.  GARDENING  is  now  improved  into  &Jine  art  (Art.  264. 
Illus.  1  and  2.)  and  when  we  talk  of  a  GARDEN,  without  any 
epithet,  we  mean  not  the  garden  of  Alcinous,  described  by 
Homer,  but  &  pleasure  garden;  a  spot  of  ground  which  the 
•"'  prophetic  eye  of  taste,"  (J3rt.  269,  and  its  illustrations) 
has  laid  out  for  beauty  solely,  and  which,  beside  the  emotions 
of  beauty  from  regularity,   order,  proportion,  colour,  and 
utility,  can  raise  the  emotions  of  grandeur,  of  sweetness, 
of  gaiety,  of  melancholy,  of  wildness,  and  even  of  surprize 
or  wonder.     But  we  have  anticipated,  under  the  head  of 
IMAGINATION,  Chapter  IX.  Book  U.  what  might  here  be- 
come the  materials  of  a  train  of  reasoning  on  gardening. 

647.  As  to  PAINTING  and  ENGRAVING,  the  best  service  I 
can  here  render  the  reader  will  be  to  sketch  the  state  of  those 
arts  in  the  age  of  Leo  X. 

648.  The  human  mind  seems  to  take,  in  certain  periods, 
a  strong  bent  to  one  class  of  pursuits  in  preference  to  all 
others,  as  in  the  age  of  Leo  X.  to  the  fine  arts  of  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture.     This  direction  of  the  human 
mind  may  be,  in  part,  accounted  for  from  moral  causes  ; 
such  as  the  peaceful  state  of  a  country,  the  genius  or  taste  of 
its  sovereigns,  their  liberal  encouragement  of  those  arts,  the 


CHAP.  in.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knoivhdge.  £95 

general  emulation  that  arises  where  one  or  two  artists  are 
of  confessed  eminence,  and  the  aid  which  they  derive  from 
the  studies  and  works  of  eacli  other. 

649.  Under  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  arts  of 
painting,  and  sculpture  were  buried  in  the  west,  and  gradu- 
ally  declined  in  the   later  ages,  as  we  may  perceive  by 
the  series  of  the  coins  of  the  lower  empire.     The  Ostho- 
groths,  instead  of  destroying,  sought  to  preserve  the  monu- 
ments of  taste  and  genius,  and  became  the  inventors  of  some 
of  the  arts  dependent  on  design,  as  the  composition  of  Mo- 
saic.    But,  in  the  middle  ages,  those  arts  were  at  a  very 
low  ebb  in  Europe.     They  began,  however,  to  revive  a  little 
towards  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century.     A  Florentine, 
named  Cimabue,  beheld  the  paintings  of  some  Greek  artists 
in  one  of  the  churches,  and  began  to  attempt  similar  perfor- 
mances.    He  soon  excelled  his  models,  and  his  scholars, 
Ghiotto,  Gaddi,  Tasi,  CavaUini,  and  Stophano  Fiorentino, 
formed  an  academy  at  Florence,  in  1350. 

650.  But  the  works  of  these  early  painters,  with  some 
fidelity  of  imitation,  had  not  a  spark  ot  grace  or  elegance  ; 
and  such  continued  to  be  the  state  of  the  art  till  towards  the 
ond  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  it  arose  at  once  to  perfec- 
tion.    Raphael  at  first  painted  in  the  hard  style  of  his  mas- 
ter Perugino ;  but  soon  deserted  it,  and  at  once  struck  into 
the  noble,  elegant,  and  graceful,  imitation  of  the  genuine 
antique.     This  change  was  the  result  of  genius  alone ;  for 
the  ancient  sculptors  were  familiar  to  the  early  painters, 
though  they  had  looked  on  them  with  cold  indifference.    But 
they  were  now  surveyed  by  the  eyes  of  Michael  Angelo, 
Raphael,  and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  geniuses  animated  by  a 
similar  spirit  of  taste,  and  a  similar  solidity  of  judgment, 
that  formed  the  Grecian  Apelles,  Xeuxis,  Glycon,  Phidias, 
and  Praxiteles. 

651.  Italy,  however,  was  not  alone  thus  distinguished; 
for  Germany,  Flanders,  and  Switzerland,  produced  in  the 
same  age  artists  of  consummate  merit. 

652.  Before  we  notice  these,  we  shall  briefly  characterize 
the  schools  of  Italy.     First  in  order  is  the  school  of  Flo- 
rence, of  which  the  most  eminent  master  was  Michael  An- 
«;elo,  born  in  1474.     His  works  are  distinguished  by  a  pro- 
found knowledge  of  the  anatomy  of  the  human  figure,  perhaps 
chiefly  formed  on  the  contemplation  of  the  ancient  sculptures. 
His  paintings  exhibit  the  grand,  the  sublime,  and  the  terri- 


300  A  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v« 

ble;  but  he  drew  not  its  simple  grace  and  beauty  from  the 
antique. 

Second. — Raphael  d'Urbino,  born  1483,  founded  the  Ro- 
man school.  This  great  painter  stands  unrivalled  in  inven- 
tion, grace,  majestic  simplicity,  and  forcible  expression  of 
the  passions  :  he  united  almost  every  excellence  of  the  art, 
far  beyond  all  competition.  From  the  antique  he  borrowed 
liberally,  but  without  servility. 

Third. — The  most  eminent  artists,  of  the  school  of  Lom- 
bardy,  or  the  Venetian,  were  Titian,  Giorgione,  Corregio, 
and  Parmeggiano. 

Illus.  1.  Titian  is  most  eminent  as  a  portrait-painter,  and  chiefly 
in  the  painting-  of  female  beauty.  Such  is  the  truth  of  his  colour- 
ing1, that  his  figures  look  nature  itself.  It  was  the  testimony  of 
Michael  Angelo  to  the  merits  of  Titian,  that,  if  he  had  studied  at 
Rome  or  Florence,  amidst  the  master-pieces  of  antiquity,  he  would 
have  eclipsed  all  the  painters  in  the  world.  Giorgione,  with  simi- 
lar merits,  was  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  his  youth.  Titian  lived  to 
the  age  of  an  hundred.  Corregio,  superior  in  colouring,  and  know- 
ledge of  light  and  shade,  to  all  that  have  preceded  or  followed  him, 
owed  every  thing1  to  study.  In  other  painters,  those  effects  are' 
frequently  accidental,  as  we  observe  they  are  not  uniform  :  thus, 
Parmeggiano,  imitating  the  graceful  manner  of  Raphael,  carried  it 
to  a  degree  of  affectation. 

2.  In  these  three  original  Italian  schools — the  character  of  the 
Florentine  is  grandeur  and  sublimity,  with  great  excellence  of  de- 
sign, but  a  want  of  grace,  of  skill  in  colouring,  and  effect  of  light 
and  shade — the  character  of  the  Roman  is  equal  excellence  of  de- 
sign, grandeur,  tempered  with  moderation  and  simplicity,  a  high 
degree  of  grace  and  elegance,  and  a  superior  knowledge,  though 
not  an  excellence,  in  colouring — the  character  of  the  Venetian  is 
the  perfection  of  colouring,  and  the  utmost  force  of  light  and  shade, 
with  an  inferiority  in  every  other  particular. 

653.  The  second  Roman  school  succeeded  the  school  of 
Raphael,  and   v  as  called  the  school  of  the  Caraccis,  three 
brothers,  the  most  excellent  of  whom  was  Annibal.     His 
scholars  were,  Guercino,  Albano,  Lanfranc,  Dominichino, 
and  Guido.     Though  all  eminent  painters,  the  first  and  last 
of  these  were  the  most  excellent.     The  elegant  contours  of 
Guercino,  and  the  strength,  the  sweetness,  and  the  majesty 
of  Girido,  are  the  admiration  of  all  true  judges  of  painting. 

654.  The  Flemish  school  in  the  same  age  was  of  a  quite 
different  character,  and  inferior  to  the  Italian ;  but  it  shone 
with  great  lustre. 

655.  In  the  fifteenth  century,  oil-painting  was  invented 
by  the  Flemings:  and,  in  that  age,  Heemskirk,  Frans  Flo- 
ris,  Quihtin  Matsys,  and  the  German  Albert  Durer,  are  ve- 


CHAP,  in.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knowledge.  301 

ry  deservedly  distinguished.  Of  the  Flemish  school,  Rubens 
is  the  chief  ornament,  though  a  painter  of  a  much  later  age. 
His  figures,  though  too  corpulent,  are  drawn  with  great  truth 
and  strict  observance  of  nature,  and  he  possesses  inexhausti- 
ble invention,  and  great  skill  in  the  expression  of  the  pas- 
sions. Switzerland  produced  Hans  Holbein,  an  artist  of 
great  eminence  in  portrait-painting,  and  remakable  for  truth 
of  colouring.  Of  his  works,  from  his  residence  at  the  court 
of  Henry  VIII.  there  are  more  specimens  in  Britain  than 
of  any'  other  foreign  painter.  Holland  had  likewise  its 
painters,  whose  chief  merit  was  the  faithful  representation 
of  vulgar  nature,  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  mechanism  of 
the  art,  the  power  of  colours,  and  the  effect  of  light  and 
shade. 

656.  But  with  the  art  of  painting,  sculpture  and  archi- 
tecture were  likewise  revived  in  the  same  age,  and  brought 
to  high  perfection  ;  and  Michael  Angelo's  universal  genius 
shone  equally  conspicuous  in  all  the  three  departments. 
Michael's    statue  of  Bacchus,  Raphael  judged  to  be  the 
work  of  Phidias  or  Praxiteles. 

657.  The  Grecian  architecture  was  first  revived  by  the 
Florentines,  in  the  fourteenth  century  ;  and  the  cathedral 
of  Pisi  was  partly  constructed  from  the  materials  of  an  an- 
cient Greek  temple.     The  art  reached  the  highest  perfec- 
tion in  the  age  of  Leo  X.  when  the  church  of  St.  Peter's  at 
Rome,  under  the  direction  of  Bratnante,  San  Gallo,  Raphael, 
and  Michael  Angelo,  exhibited  the  noblest  specimen  of  ar- 
chitecture in  the  universe. 

658.  We  date  the  invention  of  the  art  of  engraving  on 
copper  by  Tomaso  Finiguerra,  a  goldsmith  of  Florence,  a- 
bout  1460 ;  and  from  Italy  it  travelled  into  Flanders,  where 
it  was  first  practised  by  Martin  Scoen,  of  Antwerp.     Albert 
Durer,  his    celebrated  scholar,  engraved  with  excellence 
both  on  copper  and  on  wood.     Etching  on  copper,  by  means 
of  aquafortis,  was  discovered  by  Parmeggiano,  who  execu- 
ted in  that  manner  his  own  beautiful  designs. 

Illus.  1.  No  art  underwent,  in  its  early  stages,  so  rapid  an  im- 
provement as  that  of  engraving1,  for  in  the  course  of  150  years  from 
its  invention,  it  nearly  attained  perfection  ;  and  there  has  been  but 
little  proportional  improvement  in  the  last  century,  since  the  days 
of  Audran,  Poilly,  and  Edelinck. 

2.  The  art  of  engraving  in  roezzotinto  is,  however,  of  much  later 
date  than  the  ordinary  mode  of  engraving  on  copper,  and  was  the 
invention  of  Prince  Rupert,  about  1650,  It  is  characterized  by  ?, 


302  Jl  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v. 

softness  equal  to  that  of  the  pencil,  and  a  happy  blending  of  light 
and  shade,  and  is,  therefore,  peculiarly  adapted  to  portraits,  in  which 
those  requisites  are  highly  essential. 

Obs.  The  age  of  Leo  X.  was  likewise  an  era  of  very  high  litera- 
ry splendour ;  but  to  take  notice  of  the  writers  of  distinguished 
merit  in  that  period,  would  compel  us  to  launch  forward  into  a  View 
of  the  Progress  of  Literature  and  of  the  Sciences  during  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries. 

659.  Music  has  a  place  among  the  fine  arts,  and  'tis  fit 
it  should,  from  its  commanding  influence  over  the  human 
mind,  in  conjunction  with  words. 

Ulus.  Objects  of  sight  may  indeed  contribute  to  the  same  end» 
but  more  faintly,  as  where  a  love  poem  is  rehearsed  in  a  shady  grove> 
or  on  the  bank  of  a  purling  stream  ;  but  SOUNDS,  which  are  vastly 
more  ductile  and  various,  readily  accompany  all  the  social  affec- 
tions expressed  in  a  poem,  especially  emotions  of  love  and  pity. 

660.  Music  may,  no  doubt,  be  made  to  promote  luxury 
and  effeminacy;  but  with  respect  to  its  pure  and  refined 
pleasures,  music  goes  hand  in  hand  with  gardening,  archi- 
tecture, and  sculpture,  her  sister  arts,  in  humanizing  and 
polishing  the  mind.     They  may  doubt  this  who  have  never 
felt  their  charms ;  but  the  soldier,  whose  courage  has  been 
roused  by   music  performed  upon  instruments   without  a 
voice,  knows  the  all-powerful  charms  of  music;  the  lover, 
whose  grief  and  pity  have  been  raised  by  melancholy  mu- 
sic, or  by  association  of  sounds,  reminded  of  the  mistress 
whose  syren  voice  once  ravished  his  soul,  does  not  require 
the  authority  of  Polybius  to  believe  how  dear  was  music  to 
the  Arcadians,  under  those  great  teachers,  Timotheus  and 
Philoxenus.* 

iLlus.  1.  But  no  disagreeable  combination  of  sounds  is  entitled  to 
the  name  of  music  ;  for  all  music  is  resolvable  into  melody  and  har- 
mony, which  imply  agreeableness  in  their  very  conception. 

2.  The  agreeableness  of  vocal  music  differs  from  that   of  instru- 
mental ;  the  former  being  intended  to  accompany  words  ought   to 
be  expressive  of  the  sentiment  which  they  convey  ;  but  the   latter 
having  no  connexion  with  words  may  be  agreeable  without   any  re- 
lation to  sentiment.     Harmony,  properly  so  called,  though  delight- 
ful when  in  perfection,  hath  no  relation  to  sentiment ;  and  we  often 
find  melody  without  the  least  tincture  of  it. 

3.  In  vocal  music,  the  intimate  connexion  of  sense  and  sound  re- 
jects dissimilar  emotions,  those  especially  that  are  opposite.     Simi- 
lar emotions,  produced  by  the  sense  and  the  sound,   go  generally 
into  union  ;  and   at  the  same  time  are  concordant  or  harmonious  ; 
but  dissimilar  emotions,  forced  into  union  by  these  causes  intimate- 
ly connected,  obscure  each  other,  and  are  also  unpleasant  by  discord- 
ance, 

*Polyb.  Lib.  IV.Cap.UIf 


CHAP,  in.      Philosophy  of  Human  Knoivledge.  305 

661.  These  illustrations  make  it  easy  to  determine  what 
sort  of  poetical  compositions  are  fitted  for  music. 

Illus.  1.  As  music  in  all  its  tones  ought  to  be  agreeable,  it  can 
never  be  concordant  with  any  compositions  in  language  expressing 
a  disagreeable  passion,  or  describing  a  disagreeable  object,  for  here 
the  emotions  raised  by  the  sense  and  by  the  sound,  are  not  only 
dissimilar  but  opposite  ;  and  such  emotions,  forced  into  union,  pro- 
duce always  an  unpleasant  mixture. 

Example  1.  Music  accordingly  is  a  very  improper  companion  for 
sentiments  of  malice,  cruelty,  envy,  peevishness,  or  any  other  dissocial 
passion  ;  witness,  among  a  thousand,  King  John's  speech  in  Shak- 
speare,  soliciting  Hubert  to  murder  Prince  Arthur,  which,  even  in 
the  most  cursory  view,  will  appear  incompatible  with  any  sort  of 
music. 

2.  Music  is  a  companion  no  less  improper  for  the   description  of 
any  disagreeable  object,  such  as  that  of  Polyphemus,   in  the  3d 
Book  of  the  JEneid  ;  or  that  of  Sin,  in  the  2d  Book   of  Paradise 
Lost — the  horror  of  the   object  described,  and  the  pleasure  of  the 
music,  would  be  highly  discordant. 

Jllus.  2.  With  regard  to  vocal  music,  there  is  an  additional  reason 
against  associating"  it  with  disagreeable  passions.  The  external 
signs  of  such  passions  are  painful  ;  the  looks  and  gestures  to  the 
eye,  and  the  tone  of  pronunciation  to  the  ear  :  such  tones,  there- 
fore, can  never  be  expressed  musically,  for  music  must  be  pleasant, 
or  it  is  not  music. 

3.  On  the  other  hand,  Music  associates  finely  with  poems  that 
tend  to  inspire  pleasant  emotions  :  music,  for  example,  in  a  cheer- 
ful tone,  is  perfectly  concordant  with  every  emotion  in  the  same 
tone  ;  hence  our  taste  for  airs  expressive  of  mirth  and  jollity. 

4.  Sympathetic  joy  associates  'finely  with  cheerful   music ;  and 
sympathetic  pain  no'less  finely  with  music   that  is  tender  and  me- 
lancholy.    All  the  different  emotions  of  love,  namely,  tenderness, 
concern,  anxiety,  pain  of  absence,  hope,  fear,  accord  delightfully  with 
music  :  and   accordingly,  a  person  in  love,  even  when  unkindly 
treated,  is  soothed  by  music  :  for  the  tenderness  of  love  still   pre- 
vailing, accords  with  a  melancholy  strain. 

Example  3.  This  is  finely  exemplified  by  SHAKSPEAKE  in  the  4th 
Act  of  Othello,  where  Desdemona  calls  for  a  song  expressive  of  her 
distress.  Wonderful,  indeed,  is  the  delicacy  of  that  Poet's  taste, 
which  never  fails  him,  not  even  in  the  most  refined  emotions  of  hu- 
man nature ! 

||  Obs.  Melancholy  music  is  suited  to  slight  grief,  which  requires  or 
radmits  consolation  ;  but  deep  grief,  which  refuses  all  consolation, 
I  rejects,  for  that  reason,  even  melancholy  music. 

Illus.  5.  WThere  the  same  person  is  both  the  actor  and  thesing-er, 
I*  as  in  an  opera,  there  is  a  separate  reason  why  Music  should  not  be 
?  associated  with  the  sentiments  of  any  disagreeable  passion,  nor  with 
£  the  description  of  any  disagreeable  "object ;  this  separate  reason  is, 
I  that  such  an  association  is  altogether  unnatural. 

Example  4.  The  pain  wluch  a  man  feels  who  is  agitated  with 
v  malice  or  unjust  revenge,  disqualifies  him  for  relishing-  music,  or 


304  •#  Grammar  of  Logic.  BOOK  v 

any  thing  that  is  pleasing  ;  and,  therefore,  to  represent  such  a  man 
contrary  to  nature,  expressing  his  sentiments  in  a  song  cannot  be 
agreeable  to  any  audience  of  taste. 

Example  5.  Whatever  may  be  the  opinion  of  the  public,  or  ot 
contemporary  critics,  this  Illustration  appositely  applies  to   "Mac- 
heath"  in  the  «  Beggars'  Opera"— a  character  between  whom,  or 
rather  whose  principles,  and  the  endurance  of  those  principles  by 
any  audience,  there  is  but  one  step  to  the  faith  of  the  materialist— 
the  character  is  bold  and  reckless  mirth,  that  -with  the  desperate  must 
be  the  mask  of  despair ;  and  as  is  the  character,  so  is  the  horn 
spired  in  every  mind  of  pure  and  refined  sensibility,  by  Macheath  s 
mixing-  music,  and  his  companions  mingling  the  dance,  with  t 
agitated  feelings  which  all  their  sophistry  can  never  conquer. 

Illus  6.  For  a  different  reason,  Music  is  improper  for  accompa- 
nying pleasant  emotions  of  the  more  important  kind  ;  because  these 
totally  engross  the  mind,  and  leave  noplace  for  music,  nor  for  any 
sort  of  amusement. 

Example  6.  In  a  perilous  enterprise  to  dethrone  a  tyrant,  music 
would  be  impertinent,  even  where  hope  prevails,  and  the  prospect 
of  success  is  great.     Alexander,  attacking  the  Indian  town,  and 
mounting  the  wall,  had  certainly  no  impulse  to  exert  his  prowess 
a  song. 

663.   It  is  true,  that  not  the  least  regard  is  paid  to  these 
rules  either  in  the  French  or  Italian  Opera  ;  and  the  atti 
ment  which  we  Britons  have  to  operas,  may,  at  first,  be  coi 
sidered  as  an  argument  against  the  doctrine  I  have  endeav- 
oured to  establish.     But  the  general  taste  for  operas,  and 
what  are  called  melo-dramas,  is  no  argument;  for  in  these 
compositions  the  passions  are  so  imperfectly  expressed,  as 
to  leave  the  mind  free  from  relishing  music  of  any  sort  in- 
differently ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  the  pleasure  of  an 
opera  is  derived  chiefly  from  the  music,  and  scarce  y  at  all 
from  the  sentiments— a  happy  concordance  raised  by  the 
music  and  by  the  song  is  extremely  rare ;  and  I  agree  v 
Lord  Kaimes,  that  there  is  no  example  of  it,  unless  where 
the  emotion  raised  by  the  former  is  agreeable,  as  well  as 
that  raised  by  the  latter.* 

*  A  censure  of  the  same  kind  is  pleasantly  applied  to  the  French 
ballettes  by  a  celebrated  writer  :  «  Si  le  Prince  est  joyeux,  on  prend 
£art  a  sa  joye,  et  1'on  danse  :  s'il  est  triste,  on  veut  1'egayer,  et  1  on. 
danse.  Mais  il  y  a  bien  d'autres  sujets  de  danses  :  le  plus  graves 
actions  de  la  vie  se  font  en  dansent.  Les  pretres  dansent,  les  soldats 
dansent,  les  dieux  dansent,  les  diables  dansent,  on  danse  jusc^ues  dans 
les  enterremens,  et  tout  danse  apropos  de  tout. 


THE  END, 


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